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She laughed slightly with shame, and in a moment got down.
"They say if you can swing you won't be sea-sick," he said, as he
mounted again. "I don't believe I should ever be sea-sick."
Away he went. There was something fascinating to her in him. For the
moment he was nothing but a piece of swinging stuff; not a particle of
him that did not swing. She could never lose herself so, nor could her
brothers. It roused a warmth in her. It was almost as if he were a flame
that had lit a warmth in her whilst he swung in the middle air.
And gradually the intimacy with the family concentrated for Paul on
three persons--the mother, Edgar, and Miriam. To the mother he went for
that sympathy and that appeal which seemed to draw him out. Edgar was
his very close friend. And to Miriam he more or less condescended,
because she seemed so humble.
But the girl gradually sought him out. If he brought up his sketch-book,
it was she who pondered longest over the last picture. Then she would
look up at him.


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