A thicket of wind-blown cedars grew where sand and soil met. Here Adeline, Mary, Daisy, Kate Brent and her two sisters disrobed themselves and put on their bathing-costumes. With the exception of Mary’s, these were identical. Their full flannel skirts reached to the knees, the blouses had elbow-length sleeves, the shirts and sailor collars were edged with white braid. All wore long white cotton stockings.
Mary had kept her costume as a surprise. Now she appeared rather self-consciously out of the thicket, wearing a sky-blue bathing-dress with bright-red sash and scarf knotted beneath the sailor collar, and a little red silk cap. The others were enraptured, though the shortness of her skirt made Kate and her sisters gasp and filled Daisy Vaughan with envy.
"I do wonder if I could pin mine up a little", she said wistfully to Adeline. "Are there any safety-pins about?"
"Not one", said Adeline firmly, "and you are showing quite enough leg".
"It does seem hard that Mrs. Court should display limbs that are so spindling while mine, which are neither like broomsticks nor too plump like the Busby girls’, should be concealed".
"Girls are expected to be modest".
"At any rate, I shall let down my hair".
She unloosed the pins which restrained her ringlets and they fell luxuriantly about her shoulders. Placing her hands on her hips she caught up her skirt in her finger-tips so that, as she advanced with the other females out of their retreat, she displayed as much leg as did Mary. The group made such a picture that the gentlemen, already assembled at the lake’s rim, stared in admiration.
Conway’s costume, like his wife’s, was different. It was in red and white stripes running horizontally, and so much of his thin white person was exposed to view that only his youth and a fawnlike quality in him preserved him from the appearance of immodesty. He flew to meet Mary who flew to meet him.
"My treasure", he exclaimed, "let us be first in the briny deep!"
"It isn’t briny, you idiot", said Isaac Busby.
"Then I shall shed tears in it and make it briny".
The two, taking hands, skipped into the water.
Mary gave a cry as the chill of it touched her body. "Oh, how cold! How lovely and cold!"
"She could not do a worse thing", said Dr. Ramsay. He stalked judiciously to the lake’s edge and took its temperature with his toes. He had provided his own bathing-costume which consisted of a grey flannel shirt and an old pair of breeches.
"Houp-la!" cried Philip, "let’s make the plunge!"
He caught Daisy’s hand in his and they ran laughing after Conway and Mary. In another moment all were disporting themselves in the grateful coolness of the lake. It was perfect.
Nero, who had run all the way from Jalna after the wagonette and was more dead than alive on arrival, now began to notice what was going on. He came from under the willows where he had lain, loudly panting, and advanced to the shore. From beneath his curly black thatch he observed many people apparently drowning.
As it was against his principles to allow people to drown, he uttered a loud bark of assurance, as though to shout, "Hold on! I’m coming!" and plunged into the water.
He had no especial gallantry toward the female sex. A man’s life was to him as valuable as a woman’s. Therefore, as Dr. Ramsay happened to be nearest him, he swam with all his strength to rescue him.
"Call your dog, Whiteoak!" the doctor shouted, warding off Nero with an upraised arm.
Nero took this gesture as one of supplication and made haste to grasp the doctor’s shirt in his powerful jaws. He then began to drag him toward the shore.
Dr. Ramsay, in a fury, caught him a clout on the head but Nero’s head was so protected by thick curly hair that it did not really hurt him and, if it had hurt him very badly, the result would have been the same. He would have tried only the harder to save the doctor.
"Nero!" shouted Philip, controlling his laughter. "Here, sir! Nero!" He swam toward Nero.
Dr. Ramsay continued to clout him. But, by the time Nero had got him to shore, his shirt was half off his back. Nero then swam toward Daisy.
"Help!" she shrieked. "Oh, Captain Whiteoak, save me from Nero!"
Philip now had the big fellow by the collar. He dragged him to the shore and discovering a stout stick of wood threw it far out for him to retrieve. Nero gave not another glance to drowning human beings but concentrated all his life-saving proclivities on the stick. Again and again he brought it safely to shore till at length, quite tired out, he retired with it beneath the willows.
There was now an exquisite coolness abroad. It was exhilarating to swim or merely to bob up and down in the bright water. Little waves were beginning to rise and there was a faint line of foam on the beach. When they came out of the lake to lie on the warm sand they had a feeling of something new and strange in their relations. The old conventions seemed cast aside and they lay relaxed in childlike abandon. Brent put his head on Kate’s arm, while she wound his closely curling hair about her fingers. If ever she had had a fancy for Wilmott it was forgotten now. She was utterly satisfied with her husband.
Young Vaughan had managed to draw Adeline a little to one side.
"I wish we two were the only ones on the beach", he said, his blue eyes drinking in the lithe beauty of her form.
"We shall have to come together for a bathe one day".
"Would you really? But you’re not in earnest. Your eyes are smiling".
"What harm would there be in it?"
"None. But people are so abominable". He took a handful of sand and let it trickle through his fingers. "May I call you Adeline? Surely I have as much right as that man Wilmott".
"He’s an old friend. I’ve known him for ages".
"You only met him on board ship".
"That seems ages ago. But-call me Adeline if you like". She scarcely heard what Robert said. She was looking across the sand at Daisy and Philip. There was an intangible something in their attitudes, a look in their eyes, that arrested her. Daisy was suddenly different. She was no longer the irresponsible girl, given to poses and extravagances, but a deliberate woman, filled with almost uncontrollable passion for a man. Her eyes devoured Philip. She was a huntress who, having made many experiments in the chase, now drew her bowstring taut, having discovered the coveted prey. That Philip was married meant little to her. She hungered for experience rather than permanence in the field of her emotions. Adeline could see how conscious Philip was of the unleashing of something wild in Daisy. Her heart gave a leap of anger, then she turned to Robert with a smile.
"I’d love to have you call me Adeline", she said.
"Thank you-Adeline… Of course, I’ve called you that a thousand times in secret. I seem always to be thinking of you".
"You’re a dear boy, Bobbie". Again her eyes moved toward Daisy and Philip. They were motionless, gazing at the rose-stained blueness of the lake. A single cloud hung like a crimson banner. The colour was reflected on their faces which seemed flushed by their own turbulent thoughts. Again Adeline’s heart gave a leap of anger-anger too at herself for being so blind. Her first thoughts about Daisy had been right. She was dangerous. Yet she had been foolish enough to laugh at Daisy-to pity her for her ineffective poses. Curiously, at this moment Daisy looked beautiful.
Generous Kate Brent put the thought into words.
"Doesn’t Daisy look beautiful!" she exclaimed.
Everyone looked at Daisy who, with an enigmatic smile, continued to gaze at the lake.
"What a lucky dog you are, Philip!" said Conway. "Here am I completely under the dominance of my wife-not daring to glance at another woman".