her and she went under.

He looked over at the group in the glade. High school principal,
custodian of young minds--and a reader. Worse than that, a partner in
a publishing venture.

Corruption? What kind of mind would it take to believe there was
corruption in that group? A Senator Arnold kind of mind. Rebellion,
yes. Oh, very definitely rebellion--under the Arnold Law.

But how could--

Somebody had his feet and he was being pulled head over toes into the
waiting water. He came up spluttering to see Martha laughing at him
from the edge of the raft.

He started to climb up and she dove off the further side. He went
after her. Much laughter and great sport. An excuse to grab her, here
and there, to feel the firm, warm smoothness of her, to quicken to the
challenge of her body.

In the glade the watchers sat, missing nothing.

Doak said, "I'm not sure the solid citizens approve of your maidenly
frolicking. They seem to be frowning our way."

"Studious types," Martha said, "but not necessarily disapproving."

Doak was silent, staring at the water.

"Bored?" Her voice was light.

He looked up. "I've never been less bored. Martha, I...." He shook his
head in vexation.

"It's a little early for a pitch," she said, "though you do give it a
warming amateur earnestness. Or wasn't it going to be a pitch?"

He looked at her steadily. "What else?"

"A warning maybe?" a break in the light tone.

"What kind of warning?"

It was her turn to look at the water--and to color? It seemed so,
faintly, under the tan. She said, "To warn me that you're married or
poor or uninterested." She looked up, smiling. "I'm such a simple
country girl."

"Yes," he said. "Sure." He looked over at the watchers. "Are they
friends of yours?"

"Yes." Her eyes wide and searching, her face and body taut. "Why?"

"Wondered. Am I being played for a patsy?"

Silence while she studied him. Silence while the raft gently rocked,
and the world. "Patsy?" she asked.

"Forget it. You have a great charm and an unholy animal attraction for
me, Martha Klein, and maybe we'd better get back to shore and have a
quiet cigarette."

They had a cigarette and a hot dog with a skin on it, the first Doak
had ever seen. They had grape pop and a few laughs. Fun in the sun at
Dubbinville, U.S.A. Wouldn't the gang at home get a belt out of this?
And where was June's bright metallic laughter being heard this golden
afternoon?

They walked back to town quie