and singing out, truly enough, the words of a popular cry, 'White ducks
want washing,' went over and in.




CHAPTER XXVII

A MARINE DUET

She soon had to know she was chased. She had seen the dive from the
boat, and received all illumination. With a chuckle of delighted
surprise, like a blackbird startled, she pushed seaward for joy of the
effort, thinking she could exult in imagination of an escape up to the
moment of capture, yielding then only to his greater will; and she meant
to try it.

The swim was a holiday; all was new--nothing came to her as the same old
thing since she took her plunge; she had a sea-mind--had left her earth-
mind ashore. The swim, and Matey Weyburn pursuing her passed up, out of
happiness, through the spheres of delirium, into the region where our
life is as we would have it be a home holding the quiet of the heavens,
if but midway thither, and a home of delicious animation of the whole
frame, equal to wings.

He drew on her, but he was distant, and she waved an arm. The shout of
her glee sprang from her: 'Matey!' He waved; she heard his voice. Was it
her name? He was not so drunken of the sea as she: he had not leapt out
of bondage into buoyant waters, into a youth without a blot, without an
aim, satisfied in tasting; the dream of the long felicity.