“Please leave me alone,” he said almost savagely, without looking around.

“What a bear he is!  Any one else would have been a little complacent over such an exploit,” they chorused, as they followed the unconscious girl, who was now being carried to the hotel.

Ackland locked the door of his little apartment and sank panting on the bench.  “Maledictions on her!” he muttered.  “At one time there was a better chance of her being fatal to me than to Munson with his yellow-fever tragedy in prospect.  Her recklessness to-day was perfectly insane.  If she tries it again she may drown for all that I care, or at least ought to care.”  His anger appeared to act like a tonic, and he was soon ready to return to the house.  A dozen sprang forward to congratulate him, but they found such impatience and annoyance at all reference to the affair that with many surmises the topic was dropped.

“You are a queer fellow,” remarked his privileged cousin, as he took her out to dinner.  “Why don’t you let people speak naturally about the matter, or rather, why don’t you pose as the hero of the occasion?”

“Because the whole affair was most unnatural, and I am deeply incensed.  In a case of necessity I am ready to risk my life, although it has unusual attractions for me; but I’m no melodramatic hero looking for adventures.  What necessity was there in this case?  It is the old story of Munson over again in another guise.  The act was that of an inconsiderate, heartless woman who follows her impulses and inclinations, no matter what may be the consequences.”  After a moment he added less indignantly, “I must give her credit for one thing, angry as I am—­she behaved well in the water, otherwise she would have drowned me.”

“She is not a fool.  Most women would have drowned you.”

“She is indeed not a fool; therefore she’s the more to blame.  If she is ever so reckless again, may I be asleep in my room.  Of course one can’t stand by and see a woman drown, no matter who or what she is.”

“Jack, what made her so reckless?” Mrs. Alston asked, with a sudden intelligence lighting up her face.

“Hang it all!  How should I know?  What made her torture Munson?  She follows her impulses, and they are not always conducive to any one’s well-being, not even her own.”

“Mark my words, she has never shown this kind of recklessness before.”

“Oh, yes, she has.  She was running her horse to death the other hot morning and nearly trampled on a child;” and he told of an unexpected encounter while he was taking a rather extended ramble.

“Well,” exclaimed Mrs. Alston, smiling significantly, “I think I understand her symptoms better than you do.  If you are as cold-blooded as you seem, I may have to interfere.”

“Oh, bah!” he answered impatiently.  “Pardon me, but I should despise myself forever should I become sentimental, knowing what I do.”

“Jack, had you no compunctions when fearing that such a beautiful girl might perish?  We are going to have an awful night.  Hear the wind whistle and moan, and the sky is already black with clouds.  The roar of the surface grows louder every hour.  Think of that lovely form being out in those black angry waves, darted at and preyed upon by horrible slimy monsters.  Oh, it fairly makes my flesh creep!”