"I'd go to the sea--only I'm afraid I'd be found out.... Isn't it all too stupid! Where convention is needless and one's wish is so harmless why should a girl turn coward at the fear of somebody discovering how innocently happy she is trying to be with a man!... It makes me very impatient at times." ... She turned, hesitated, stepped nearer and looked him in the face, daringly perverse. "I want to go with you!... Have we not passed through enough together to deserve this little unconventional happiness?" She was breathing more quickly. "I _will_ go with you if you wish." "To the sea?" "Yes. It is only a half mile by the hammock path. The servants are awake at six. Really, the night is too superb to waste--alone. But we must get back in time, if I go with you." "Have you a key?" "Yes, here in my gloves"--stripping them from her bare arms. "Can you put them into your pocket with the key?... And I'll pin up my skirt to get it out of the way.... What? Do you think it's a pretty gown? I did not think you noticed it. I've danced it to rags.... And will you take this fan, please? No, I'll wear the wrap--it's only cobweb weight." She had now pinned up her gown to walking-skirt length; her slim feet were sheathed in silken dancing gear; and she bent over to survey them, then glanced doubtfully at Hamil, who shook his head. "Never mind," she said resolutely; "only we can't walk far on the beach; I could never keep them on in the dune sands. Are you ready, O my tempter?" Like a pair of guilty ghosts they crossed the shadowy garden, skirted the dark orange groves, and instead of entering the broad palm-lined way that led straight east for two miles to the sea, they turned into the sinuous hammock path which, curving south, cut off nearly a mile and a half. "It's rather dark," she said. They walked for a few minutes in silence; and, at first, she could not understand why he insisted on leading, because the path was wide enough for both. "I _will_ not proceed in this absurd manner," she said at last--"like an Indian and his faithful squaw. Why on earth do you--" And it flashed across her at the same instant. "Is _that_ why?"--imperiously abrupt. "What?" he asked, halting. She passed her arm through his, not gently, but her laughing voice was very friendly: "If we jump a snake in the dark, my friend, we jump him _together_! It's like you, but your friend Shiela won't permit it." "Oh, it's only a conventional precaution--" "Yes? Well, we'll take chances together.... Suppose--by the wildest and weirdest stretch of a highly coloured imagination you jumped a rattler?" "Nonsense--" "_Suppose_ you did?" He said, sobered: "It would be horribly awkward for you to explain. I forgot about--" [Illustration: "She walked a few paces toward the house, halted, and looked back audaciously."]