Chris came into the lounge at the moment.
"Well, what's the programme for to-day?" he asked, cheerily. He was quite at his ease; he believed that last night's foolishness had been swept into the rag bag of the past and forgotten; he did not know enough about women to suspect Mrs. Heriot of malice, or Marie of capability to deceive him.
It was Mrs. Heriot who answered.
"Personally, I'm too worn out to do anything but lounge about," she said. "And you . . . you look awfully tired yourself, Chris."
Marie raised her eyes.
"Well, he had rather a nasty adventure last night, didn't he?" she said quietly. "What a fortunate thing for you both that he could swim, wasn't it, Mrs. Heriot?"
She spoke quite simply and naturally and with just the right shade of concern in her voice, but her heart was racing at her own daring.
Chris turned scarlet to the roots of his hair, and for a moment there was an embarrassed silence.
Then Mrs. Heriot said with a little uncertain laugh: "So he told you! How brave of him! I advised him not to, you know. I thought 82 after your own dreadful accident it would only unnerve you again."
Marie laughed.