In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. A rock gave way to deep water. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he led her to the altar some twenty years ago. But, being pushed forward by his subordinate officer, he was compelled to make a stand.
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