"I will race you, Ursula," came the well-modulated voice.

Ursula started violently. She turned to see the warm,

unfolded face of her mistress looking at her, to her. She was

acknowledged. Laughing her own beautiful, startled laugh, she

began to swim. The mistress was just ahead, swimming with easy

strokes. Ursula could see the head put back, the water

flickering upon the white shoulders, the strong legs kicking

shadowily. And she swam blinded with passion. Ah, the beauty of

the firm, white, cool flesh! Ah, the wonderful firm limbs. Ah,

if she did not so despise her own thin, dusky fragment of a

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body, if only she too were fearless and capable.

She swam on eagerly, not wanting to win, only wanting to be

near her mistress, to swim in a race with her. They neared the

end of the bath, the deep end. Miss Inger touched the pipe,

swung herself round, and caught Ursula round the waist in the

water, and held her for a moment.

"I won," said Miss Inger, laughing.

There was a moment of suspense. Ursula's heart was beating so

fast, she clung to the rail, and could not move. Her dilated,

warm, unfolded, glowing face turned to the mistress, as if to

her very sun.

"Good-bye," said Miss Inger, and she swam away to the other

pupils, taking professional interest in them.

Ursula was dazed. She could still feel the touch of the

mistress's body against her own--only this, only this. The

rest of the swimming time passed like a trance. When the call

was given to leave the water, Miss Inger walked down the bath

towards Ursula. Her rust-red, thin tunic was clinging to her,

the whole body was defined, firm and magnificent, as it seemed

to the girl.

"I enjoyed our race, Ursula, did you?" said Miss Inger.

The girl could only laugh with revealed, open, glowing

face.

The love was now tacitly confessed. But it was some time

before any further progress was made. Ursula continued in

suspense, in inflamed bliss.

Then one day, when she was alone, the mistress came near to

her, and touching her cheek with her fingers, said with some

difficulty.

"Would you like to come to tea with me on Saturday,

Ursula?"

The girl flushed all gratitude.

"We'll go to a lovely little bungalow on the Soar, shall we?

I stay the week-ends there sometimes."

Ursula was beside herself. She could not endure till the

Saturday came, her thoughts burned up like a fire. If only it

were Saturday, if only it were Saturday.

Then Saturday came, and she set out. Miss Inger met her in

Sawley, and they walked about three miles to the bungalow. It

was a moist, warm cloudy day.

The bungalow was a tiny, two-roomed shanty set on a steep

bank. Everything in it was exquisite. In delicious privacy, the

two girls made tea, and then they talked. Ursula need not be

home till about ten o'clock.




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