She felt no shame now, though he was looking straight at her. He was filled with the strange delight that comes with any stepping over the bounds of everyday life into a world of fairyland, where all is pure, and nothing is forbidden, where the sense of being two that go their own ways unseen is like a purging, fusing flame.
Olof swam rapidly across.
"You look like a water-witch there in the reeds," he cried delightedly, checking his stroke.
"And you're the water-sprite," she answered, with a joyous smile, as she struck out.
"Bravo, water-witch, you're swimming splendidly!" he cried. They were swimming side by side now, straight across the river.
The water rippled lightly about them; now and again the girl's white shoulder lifted above the surface, her long hair trailed behind over the water, that shone like gold in the sunset light.
"Wonderful!" he cried. "I've never seen anything so lovely."
"Nor I!" said the girl.
"Nor we!" laughed the trees behind them.
"Nor we!" nodded the bushes on the bank in front.