It was a diagonal cut, probably a mile and a half across, but the water was delicious, and they were in no haste. At times they spoke a sentence or two, but for the most part they moved on rhythmically without a word. Each seemed to know instinctively when to stop and “tread” or when to float and rest. It was the essence of tranquillity which speech would have spoiled.
Several times they faced each other for long, steady minutes. He could observe the easy swing of the arm, the coiled brown hair, the wet eyelashes and the silk insignia of the French swimming club on the edge of her garment; and she could note his natural ease in the water, but particularly his face of many lines. She would have liked to examine it furrow by furrow, but his scrutinizing blue eye kept too watchful a guard. And she was not quite certain if he had not begun to “make eyes at her”; so she would turn away and use a stroke that left him to study the coil on coil of braided hair. And then, safely turned away, she would permit her face to smile in quiet enjoyment of the catastrophe that would occur—panic, indeed!—if he could know what racing thoughts were hers!
And all the while he was thinking of the phenomena of communication: how each mind was busy on its own affairs with only a yard or two of space between, yet neither able to enter the privacy of the other. He conjectured that the documents which Mrs. Wells had given her to study had not yet told their story of disaster. Or else she was an incredible actor. And while he planned carefully how to settle the difficulties of the estate without giving her pride a chance to object, he was thankful for the miracle that separated their minds so absolutely.
He was thankful for other reasons. While he watched her face he wondered why she had told Walter that Richard and she had “fixed it up.” Walter had been explicit; he insisted that Jerry had owned that she and Richard were agreed on marriage. Walter may have been mistaken, but Richard could not shake off the air of probability about Walter’s assertion. If she had made such a statement—nothing in the calm face beside him remotely suggested such a thing—there was some good reason back of it. So much he assured himself, but, puzzle as he could, he found no satisfying explanation.
The swim was not fatiguing because they were experienced swimmers and knew how to make journeys of that sort; but, nevertheless, on reaching the other side, they lay down on the grass and took the precaution of a good rest.
“How goes the bookkeeping, Lady Manager?” he asked.
She did not reply at first.
“Not at all,” she admitted at length. “But I fear I have not been putting my mind to it the way I should.”
“Let me help.”
She thought about that for several seconds before replying.