"Good lord, this coral," he groaned. "Why don't some of the blighters who write about African seas say coral is as sharp as--ugh!--needles!" He reached forward at length and plunged his arm deep into the pool. "Oh, go on," laughed Ursula, "another inch.... Your trousers don't matter. That's it.... Got it?" "Damn!" cried Paul. "Oh, I say I'm sorry, but those spines are sharp. Lor, I'm soaked. But there, just look at him. Look at him trying to walk on my hand. Come on out, and let's put him in shallow water and watch him move." They bent together over the lovely thing and watched it walk slowly but purposefully away. And while they stood there, motionless, barefoot, side by side on the sand in some six inches or so of the warm water, a fleet of tiny sky-blue fish invaded the shallows. Ursula caught Paul's hand, and there they stood, hardly daring to breathe, while the little living fragments of sapphire poked their tiny noses about their toes. Then, suddenly, Paul laughed tempestuously, and they fled. "Oh, you rotter," cried Ursula, smiling at him. "They'll never come again." "I couldn't help it," said Paul a little ruefully, stooping to rub his foot. "That fellow was actually bedding down between my foot and yours, and he tickled so." "Well, anyway, we've got to put on shoes and stockings now. It'll be sunset in next to no time. Paul, did you ever imagine anything quite as lovely as all this?" Paul stood, and let his gaze wander around. There was not a soul to be seen in the curve of the bay in which they were. A little way off, the outrigger, rough-hewn and brown, lay on its side. King crabs were beginning to emerge from their holes in the sand and stand on their spidery legs and survey the evening world from their castles of eyes. Far out at sea feathery pink clouds were floating down to a barred horizon of emerald and gold. All around and about them a soft light glowed from which the fierce vividness of the day had died away. He turned and put his arm in hers. "Let's sit in the outrigger and put on our things," he said. They sat side by side, and Paul was aware again, as he had been lately, of the girl's loveliness. Unconcerned, gaily, she towelled her feet on his handkerchief, drew on her stockings, fastened them, smoothed down her skirt. She finished before him, since she had dried first, and sat waiting for a second or two, her face resting on her hands, her eyes on the ever-deepening sunset colours. He too finished, and followed her gaze seawards. Then: "Do you want anything more than that?" she asked softly. And at her question Paul understood quite suddenly.