He was fighting to prevent himself from being drawn beneath the jagged, crumbling edge of the hole. Page 244.
As Stephen looked about him in the vague, groping uncertainty of returning consciousness his glance fell upon his father who stood beside his pillow, shivering nervously. He put out his hand and touched the dripping coat sleeve.
"What—" began he weakly.
Then with a rush it all came back to him and everything was clear. He had been drowning and his father had plunged into the water to save him!
A sob rose in his throat and he caught the elder man's hand between both of his.
"Oh, Dad," he exclaimed, "I've been so rotten to you—so mean—so cowardly. I'm ashamed to—"
"Don't talk about it now, son. I know."
"You know what I did?"
"Yes."
"But—" the boy paused bewildered.