"It doesn't look deep," remarked Rose.
"But it is, nevertheless. I nearly drowned myself here when I was a kid, trying to dive to the bottom."
"I'm glad you didn't succeed. What a heavy blow it would have been to your father!"
"Dear old Dad," said Allison, gently. "I'm all he has."
"And all he wants."
"It's after eight," Allison complained, looking at his watch, "and I'm starving."
"So am I. Likewise my skirts are wet, so we'd better go."
When they reached Madame Bernard's, Rose ordered breakfast in the dining-room, for two, then excused herself to put on dry clothing. Allison waited before the open fire until she came down, fresh and tailor-made, in another gown and a white linen collar.
"I thought women always wore soft, fluffy things in the morning," he observed, as they sat down.
"Some do—the fluffy ones, always."