"I think it has almost stopped bleeding," she remarked as he laid the cloth against his forehead. "You frightened me, Captain Selwyn. I am not easily frightened."
"I know it."
"Did you know I was frightened?"
"Of course I did."
"Oh," she said, vexed, "how could you know it? I didn't do anything silly, did I?"
"No; you very sensibly called me Philip. That's how I knew you were frightened."
A slow bright colour stained face and neck.
"So I was silly, after all," she said, biting at her under lip and trying to meet his humorous gray eyes with unconcern. But her face was burning now, and, aware of it, she turned her gaze resolutely on the sea. Also, to her further annoyance, her heart awoke, beating unwarrantably, absurdly, until the dreadful idea seized her that he could hear it. Disconcerted, she stood up—a straight youthful figure against the sea. The wind blowing her dishevelled hair across her cheeks and shoulders, fluttered her clinging skirts as she rested both hands on her hips and slowly walked toward the water's edge.
"Shall we swim?" he asked her.
She half turned and looked around and down at him.