“Yes,”—said Jane—“those of us who choose; but you won’t, you know—it will be your chance.”
“My chance? of what?” asked Harriet.
“Why, of proving what you want to prove to Mr Durrant.”
Harriet turned and looked full at her companion. It is true she was a good swimmer, and she was not a coward; but she knew enough about the water to understand that even the best swimmer cannot cope against a sea which is still perturbed by a recent storm. She said, after a pause:
“I always knew you were clever enough, Jane, when you chose to put your brains in soak. Now, what is your thought? Out with it.”
“Well,” said Jane; “it is this way. They’re all going to bathe—all of them—Ralph and Mr Durrant, and all the girls. You coax Ralph to get a little out of his depth, and then you save him. Why, it’s done as easy as possible. Why, Mr Durrant, he’ll feel then just as Ralph feels for you—that there’s nothing in all the world that he won’t do for you, and Robina won’t be in it at all.”
Harriet was so astonished at these words, that she stood stock-still and turned and stared at her companion.
“But if Mr Durrant is in the water himself, he will save Ralph. Besides, he won’t allow him to go out of his depth; he will just keep him to himself. Why, Ralph is the apple of his eye, you goose!”
“Yes,” said Jane; “but suppose he isn’t with him.”
“Now what are you talking about?”