She laughed in merry scorn.
"Tired? Why, I could swim twenty times as far. Do you think I have no muscle? Feel. Don't you know I fence all the winter?"
She braced her bare arm. He felt the muscle; then, relaxing it, by drawing down her wrist, he kissed it very gently.
"Soft and strong—like yourself," said he. Ottilie said nothing, but looked at her white feet through the transparent water. She thought that in letting him kiss her arm and feeling as though he had kissed right through to her heart, she was exhibiting a pitiful lack of strength. Somerset looked at her askance, uncertain. For nothing in the world would he have offended.
"Did you mind?" he whispered.
She shook her head and continued to look at her feet. Somerset felt a great happiness pulse through him.
"If I gave you up," said he, "I should be the poorest spirited dog that ever whined."
"Hush!" she said, putting her hand in his. "Let us think only of the present happiness."
They sat silent for a moment, contemplating the little red-roofed town and Illerville-sur-Mer, which nestled in greenery beyond the white sweep of the beach, and the rococo hotels and the casino, whose cupolas flashed gaudily in the morning sun. From the north-eastern end of the bay stretched a long line of sheer white cliff as far as the eye could reach. Towards the west it was bounded by a narrow headland running far out to sea.
"It looks like a frivolous little Garden of Eden," said Somerset, "but I wish we could never set foot in it again."