There was a stretch of sandy beach, flanked by gray boulders, near the “Sabrina’s” anchorage, and after inspecting Tim’s beautiful little boat they all went ashore.
Jane whispered to Jack that she wanted to talk to him for a few minutes and they went over to one of the sunbaked rocks, while the rest of the crowd stood ankle deep in the cold water, trying to force themselves into it.
“I’ll never get into it by degrees,” Frances shivered, as she took three or four tentative steps. “Come on, Mabel, I believe the water around that farthest rock will be deep enough to make a shallow drive.”
Jack looked at Jane with surprise. “What is it?” he asked.
“What do you think of Breck?”
“All this mystery to know what I think of Breck?” Jack was amused. “Why, I suppose he is all right. Never paid much attention to him. Seems a bit sullen to me. I don’t reckon I’ve said two words to him since I have been on board.” Jack’s eyes followed Ellen’s little figure as it ran bravely out into the chilly water, hesitated a second, made a rather poor surface dive and began swimming shoreward with very irregular and splashy strokes.
“It is funny Ellen can’t learn to swim,” Jane said as she, too, watched her friend’s efforts.
“I think she does remarkably well,” Jack said quickly. “But what made you ask me what I thought of Breck?”
“I simply wanted to know your opinion of your prospective brother-in-law.”
For a minute Jack looked at her blankly, then laughed as if what his sister said was a huge joke.