"Are you not rather far from the shore, Miss Grant?" I inquired bruskly.
"Thank you! Not a bit too far," she exclaimed, keeping up a steady progress through the water.
She moved easily and did not betray any signs of weariness, except it were in a catching of her voice, which almost every one has who talks in the water after a long swim.
I could not but admire the power of her swimming, despite the evident fact that she was not at all speedy.
"But you have no right to risk your life out here, when you do not know the coast," I retorted.
"What right have you to question my rights, sir?" she answered haughtily. "Please go away."
"I spoke for your own good," I continued. "There may be currents in the Bay that you know nothing of. Besides, the driftwood itself is dangerous this morning."
She did not reply for a bit, but kept steadily on.
When I took up my position a few yards to the left and on a level with her, she turned on me indignantly.
"Excuse me, Sir Impertinence,—but do you take me for a child or a fool? Are you one of those inflated individuals who imagines that masculine man is the only animal that can do anything?"