Graeme, as he glanced round in his long side-strokes at the lovely eager face gemmed with sparkling water-jewels, took full deep breaths of delight and gratitude to the All-Goodness that had vouchsafed him such a prize.

The kiss of the life-giving water had induced a tender flush of colour in the soft white neck, as though the pink of her bathing-suit had spread upwards.  He could see the pulsing blue veins in neck and temple as she rose to her stroke.  A tiny tendril of water-darkened hair lifted and fell on her neck like a filament of seaweed on a polished rock.  Her eyes were very bright, and seemed larger than usual with the strenuous joy of it all.  The wonder of her beauty absorbed him.  He could hardly turn his face from it.  He would have been content to go on swimming so for ever.

But, glancing past the sweet face one time, he saw that they had gone farther than he knew, and Scamp had turned long since and was yelping towards the shore.

“Better turn now,” he said quietly, and she floated for a moment’s rest, then turned and they headed for the shore, and Punch passed them noiselessly.

They ploughed along in good cheer for a time, and then, of a sudden, it seemed to him that they were making but poor progress.

He fixed his eyes on a rock on the shore and swam steadily on.

They had been opposite it.  Twenty strokes, and the rock, instead of facing them, had swung slowly to the north.  They were making less than no progress.  They were drifting.  They were in the grip of a current that was carrying them towards the black fangs of Pointe la Joue.

A cold sweat broke out among the sea-drops on his brow.  Pointe la Joue is an ill place to land, even if they could make it, and the chances were that the current would carry them past.

How to tell her without undue upsetting?  A panic might bring disaster.

He looked round at her.  The bright face was high and resolute.  She was not aware of the danger, but from that look on her face he did not think she would go to pieces when he told her.

The rock he had been watching stood now at an angle to their course.

“Are you tired, Meg?” he asked.

“I’m all right.”

“Turn on your back and float for a minute or two,” and he set the example, and Punch saw and came slipping back to them.

“We’re in a cross current,” he said quietly.  “And we’re making no way—­”

“I know.  I was watching a rock on the shore.  What’s the best thing to do?”

“We’ll rest for a few minutes and then go with the tide round Pointe la Joue.  We can land in Vermandes.  You’re not cold, are you?”

“Not a bit.”

When he lifted his head the Coupee was shortened to a span, and the southern headland folded over it as he looked.  They were drifting as fast as a man could walk at his fastest.  They were abreast the black rocks of La Joue.