“It’s the most gorgeous thing I ever saw, do you know that?” he asked, with one hand touching the river of sparkling gold that blazed and tumbled on her shoulders.  “Listen, Harriet, do you remember the little talk we had some weeks ago?”

“Perfectly,” she said, a little unwillingly.

“Before I went to California, I mean,” he further elucidated.

“Yes, I know what you mean, Ward!”

“Well, how about it?” the boy said, after a pause.  Harriet, her beautiful flushed face framed in curtains of shining hair, was regarding him steadily, and almost sorrowfully.

“Do you mean to ask if I have changed?”

“Well—­” he looked up.  “I thought you might!  They do—­the ladies!”

“It wouldn’t be fair to you.  Ward,” the girl said, slowly, after a pause.  “I love you, but I don’t love you the way your wife will!”

“Why do you talk like that—­it’s all bunk!” he said, impatiently.  “If you try it and don’t like it, why, you can get out, can’t you?”

“Ward, don’t say those things!” the girl said, distressedly.

“I want you!” he said, sullenly.  “I’m crazy about you!  My God—­”

“Ward, please don’t touch me!” she said, sharply, getting to her feet with a spring, as he put his arm about her.  “Don’t—!  I shall tell your father if you do!”

“You didn’t talk that way at Crownlands last June,” the man said, sulkily.  “I don’t see what has made such a difference now!”

“I think perhaps I’m different, Ward.  The summer—­” Harriet’s voice died into silence.  Her eyes were fixed upon the figure of a man who came down the little pier, and dove into the shining water.  Two minutes later, with a great gasp of satisfaction, Richard Carter drew himself up beside them.

“Ha!  That is something like!  My Lord, the water is beautiful to-day!  How about the buoy?  Who swims with me to the buoy?”

“Come on, Harriet!” Ward said, poising.

The girl hesitated, glanced toward the shore.  Saunders, with a white-clad girl on each side of him, was walking up to the house.

“Did your friends come down with you, Mr. Carter?” she asked, before quite abandoning all responsibilities.

“Briggs and Gardiner—­yes.  They’re getting into golf clothes.  We’re going to play nine holes anyway, at the club.  What time is dinner?”

“Eight o’clock.  Unless you prefer—­”

“No, no!  Eight is fine.  We’ll be back at seven.  My mother and Mrs. Tabor and Blondin will be down from town at about six.”

Harriet rose, too, and bundled the glory of her hair into a blue rubber cap that made her look like a beautiful rosy French peasant.  With no further speech she made a splendid dive, and the men followed her.