He made a last effort to tempt her. “D’you remember the pool in the woodland--the place where we camped? You thought it would make you a boy. Perhaps, if you tried now----” “Nonsense.” She shook her head determinedly and sat down. The situation was too absurd to argue over. Before he left, he gave his watch and money into her keeping. He derived a queer sensation from seeing her pop them into her vanity-case. That was just the matter-of-fact way in which she’d do it if they were married. As he undressed in the concrete bathing-house, he puzzled to discover what caprice had prompted her order. Had she done it to prove that she had power over him? Or had she wanted to get rid of him? Had he bored her? He reviewed their conversation. All small talk! Not very inspiring! His brain had been weaving a lover’s phrases, which she wouldn’t permit him to utter. The result was that the potentially eloquent lover, when stifled, had been neither brilliant nor entertaining--in fact, a dull fellow. A horrid little suspicion sprang up. He tried to stamp it out, but it ran from him like flame through withered grass. Had she wanted to be alone to enjoy the admiration she inspired? By Eden Row standards they had no right to be out unchaperoned. It was still less respectable for her to be alone in that fast crowd. He hurried into his bathing-costume and stepped into the sunshine. She wasn’t where he had left her. She was nowhere in sight He was half-minded to go back and dress, but was deterred by her imagined laughter. He ran down to the sea and swam about. Every time he rose on the crest of a wave he watched for her. When he passed the spot again she was still absent. Making haste over his dressing, he came out. She wasn’t there. Panic began to seize him--all kinds of feverish alarms. He was setting out to search, when he saw her coming sauntering along the beach. “Hulloa!” she called breezily. “You haven’t been long. Did you only paddle or did you duck your head as well?” “Where’d you get to?” he asked pantingly. “I’ve been awfully nervous.” She cocked her head on one side like a knowing little bird. “Nervous! I’ve lived years and years without you to take care of me, and haven’t come to much harm.--You silly old thing, I was getting something for you.” She opened her vanity-case and pulled out a tin-type photograph. “There!” Then she noticed that his hand trembled. “Why--why, you _are_ upset I thought you were only cross. I’m awfully sorry.” She melted and gazed at him penitently. In the next breath she was chaffing. “If you go on this way, I shan’t bring you out for holidays. You might die in my arms. Nice thing, that! It’d ruin my reputation.” He was regarding the cheap little picture. It was of her, with the wind breaking against her dress and the sea backing her. It was scarcely dry yet. “For me?” “Of course. And, before I lose them, here’s your watch and money.”