Nina, Ward, and Harriet fairly lived in the water, and Ward had unconsciously served his father’s cause by bringing home with him a tongue-tied pleasant youth named Saunders Archer, whose presence in the house had helped to keep Nina pleased and amused.  She had already imparted to Harriet the valuable information that Saunders had never known his mother, and had never had a sister, “and of course I have always been such an oddity in the family,” said Nina, “that I got right at his confidence in that dreadful way of mine!  He said he didn’t know why he talked to me so frankly.”

Harriet had seen to it that a variety of delightful plans awaited the young people at every turn.  The retirement natural after the recent domestic catastrophe was too dangerous to risk now.  They drove to Piping Rock, to Easthampton; they yachted and swam; and the evenings were filled with riotous entertainments of their own devising, and once or twice with country club dances ten or twenty miles away.  And Harriet hoped, hoped, hoped, feverishly, incessantly, wearyingly, that the danger was past.

But Amy came down, mild and colourless as ever, yet still more poised, more socially adept than Nina, and with Amy innocently diverting Saunders’s bashful attentions, Nina returned to thoughts of Royal.  The “to-morrow” for which the white organdie had been selected was to bring Royal for his first visit to Huntington.  He was coming down with Madame Carter and Mrs. Tabor in her car.  The man, the old lady had protested indignantly, had already been asked to visit them, and it was preposterous, just because Richard fancied every man who looked at Nina was in love with her, that he should be insulted!  No matter, Richard said, in an aside to Harriet, accepting the situation philosophically, there was no need for suddenness.  Harriet tried to be philosophical, too.  Richard was bringing two men down for golf this week-end, and with Saunders and Amy, Royal and Madame Carter and Mrs. Tabor, the house would be filled.  She had plenty to do with the managing, the endless details that were brought her mercilessly, hour after hour, by maids and housekeeper.  And yet under her quiet busyness and her happy hours with the young people there lurked incessantly a fretted sense of danger approaching.

Something of this was in her mind as she and Nina basked on the gently heaving float, in the sunshine.  Amy, with no particular desire to hide the fact that she was a better swimmer than Nina, had essayed a swim to the buoy, a hundred yards out in the channel.  Nina, therefore, was naturally turned to thoughts of a male who quite frankly did not admire Amy; and she talked incessantly of Blondin.  Harriet, the best swimmer among them, remained with Nina, and now fancied she saw an opening for a little talk she felt extremely timely.

“Mr. Blondin likes you, Nina, just because you aren’t flirtatious and silly, like the other girls.  But he isn’t the sort of man to get very deeply interested in any woman, dear.”