She was swimming past the floating dock when he prepared to dive.
“Come on!” she challenged, and struck out into the Lake.
He dived and followed. Both were using the long side-stroke, and after several minutes there seemed to be no diminution of the space between them. As she swung her head from side to side she would look back occasionally and smile at him tantalizingly.
“Come on!” she seemed to say; “if you can.”
As they got out beyond the shore trees she noticed about a mile away the white spot of Walter’s sail coming down towards them before a light breeze, and altered her direction and made towards it.
CHAPTER XII
SAINT PHŒBE
The sun was shining pleasantly over Bluff Point, and the temperature of the water was absolutely neutral to the swimmers. It was glorious swimming, thought Richard. He was enjoying it and he knew that Jerry was equally happy. As they drew near the boat—Walter had seen them and had trimmed his sail to meet them—he lengthened his stroke. Instantly Jerry lengthened hers. The space between them had not changed a foot. He wondered if she could hold the new stroke, a slow but powerful overhand; but his wonder increased as she held it without effort. There was not a splash or an ungainly movement in her swing. When he slackened for fear of pushing her too hard, she imitated instantly. It was as if she had determined exactly how much distance should be between them.
Walter brought the little boat into the wind with such expertness that Geraldine had but to reach out her hand for the stern. There she waited triumphantly for Richard. She counted with satisfaction the fifteen long swings which represented the amount of her victory.
As he reached up beside her and caught the edge of the boat she waited for him to congratulate her. She was an exceptional swimmer, and he had just found it out. This time she would not blunder by speech.
But his eye was upon Walter. “Good work, old man!” he exulted. “You turned that boat about with the precision of a Dutch watchmaker. That’s what I call skill!”