Alice smiled radiantly. "Why, that's too good to be true! I was just telling Vernon, before we saw you down here, that I wished I could go into the jungle without the scooter, to see all the wild animals and things. Will you take me in for a little walk, Dai? Vernon can mind the scooters--you wouldn't mind, would you, Vernie?" * * * * * Maxwell started to reply, but the Beachcomber forestalled him. "I assure you, Miss Zwerling," he said slowly, "that it would be a waste of your time and mine." Alice blushed again, this time not so prettily. "Just what do you mean?" she demanded. Dai looked at her gravely. "I'm not quite such a wild man as I seem," he said. "I always wear trousers in mixed company." He repeated, with emphasis. "_Always._" Alice's lips grew hard and thin, and the skin whitened around them. Her eyes glittered. She started to say something to the Beachcomber, but the words stuck in her throat. She turned to Maxwell. "I think we'd better go." "We just got here," Maxwell said mildly. "Stick around." She stood up. "Are you coming?" "Nope," said Maxwell. Without another word she turned, walked stiffly to her scooter, got in and soared away. They watched the tiny shining speck dwindle and disappear over the horizon. Maxwell grinned and looked at the Beachcomber. "She had that coming," he said. "Not that she's out anything--she's got her return ticket." He put a hand behind him to hoist himself to his feet. "I'll be going now, Dai. Nice to have--" "No, stay a while, Vern," said the giant. "I don't often see people." He looked moodily off across the water. "I didn't spoil anything special for you, I hope?" "Nothing special," Maxwell said. "Only my current light o' love." The giant turned and stared at him, half-frowning. "What the hell!" said Maxwell disgustedly. "There are plenty of other pebbles on the beach." "Don't say that!" The Beachcomber's face contorted in a blaze of fury. He made a chopping motion with his forearm. Violent as it was, the motion came nowhere near Maxwell. Something else, something that felt like the pure essence of wrath, struck him and bowled him over, knocking the breath from him. He sat up, a yard away from the giant, eyes popping foolishly. "Whuhh--" he said. There was pain and contrition in the Beachcomber's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. He helped Maxwell up. "I don't often forget myself that way. Will you forgive me?" Maxwell's chest was still numb; it was hard to breathe. "Don't know," he said with difficulty. "What did you do it for?" Sunlight gleamed dazzlingly on the Beachcomber's bare head. His eyes were in deep shadow, and shadows sketched the bold outline of his nose, marked the firm, bitter lines of his mouth. He said, "I've offended you." He paused. "I'll explain, Vernon, but there's one condition--you must never tell anybody else, ever."