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           Sincehertinybeachlaywithinthelagoon,theseawasmirrorcalmandquitefreeofcurrents,veryshallow.Allofwhichsheloved,becauseshecouldn’tswimastroke.Butinwatersosaltyitseemedalmosttoholdherup,shebegantoexperiment;whenshecouldfloatfortensecondsatatimeshewasdelighted.Thesensationofbeingfreedfromthepulloftheearthmadeherlongtobeabletomoveaseasilyasafish.

           Soifshemournedherlackofcompany,itwasonlybecauseshewouldhavelikedtohavesomeonetoteachhertoswim.Otherthanthat,beingonherownwaswonderful.HowrightAnnehadbeen!Allherlifetherehadbeenpeopleinthehouse.Tohavenoonewassucharelief,soutterlypeaceful.Shewasn’tlonelyatall;shedidn’tmissAnneorLuddieorJustineorLuke,andforthefirsttimeinthreeyearsshedidn’tyearnforDrogheda.OldRobneverdisturbedhersolitude,justchuggedfarenoughdowntheroadeachsunsettomakesureherfriendlywavefromtheverandawasn’tasignalofdistress,turnedthecarandputteredoffagain,hissurprisinglyprettyMissusgrimlyridingshotgun.Oncehephonedhertosayhewastakingtheothercoupleinresidenceoutinhisglassbottomedboat,andwouldsheliketocomealong?

           Itwaslikehavingaticketofadmissiontoawholenewplanet,peeringthroughtheglassdownintothatteeming,exquisitelyfragileworld,wheredelicateformswerebuoyedandbolsteredbythelovingintimacyofwater.