‘I didn’t know it,’ she said; ‘I never felt you touch me.’
‘But I did!’ he insisted.
‘Well, if you did, you didn’t do it on purpose.’
Into this trap he fell.
‘Yes, I did!’ he declared. ‘I hated you: I pushed you in because I wanted you to drown.’
Reassured, she saw that once more he was telling lies. It comforted her to find that he had not got out of her depth; her old Jonathan, the Jonathan she knew, was safely hers again.
‘Then why did you try to save me?’ she inquired.
‘I didn’t try; not really. I only pretended to.’
‘Who was that for?’
‘Myself, I suppose. It would have been easier to think of afterwards, you see: that I—tried.’