'Will you have time to give me another lesson tomorrow?' he said.
She turned on him.
'Mr Callender, don't you think this farce has gone on long enough?'
Once, in the dear, dead days beyond recall, when but a happy child, George had been smitten unexpectedly by a sportive playmate a bare half-inch below his third waistcoat-button. The resulting emotions were still green in his memory. As he had felt then, so did he feel now.
'Miss Vaughan! I don't understand.'
'Really?'
'What have I done?'
'You have forgotten how to swim.'
A warm and prickly sensation began to manifest itself in the region of George's forehead.
'Forgotten!'