“Well, we can't let her out on this road. It's too narrow--have to take a ditch sometimes to pass. That wouldn't do for an eighty-mile clip, you know--now would it?” “Hardly.” “I might risk it alone--but my first name's `Old Man Caution' today--you get me?” Mary nodded and turned her head away again. “I got you the first time, sir,” she answered playfully taking his tone. He ran the car into the garage at the Beach, sprang out and lifted Mary to the ground with quick, firm hand. They threw off their heavy coats and left them. “Look out for this junk now, sonny,” he cried to the attendant, tossing him a half dollar. “Sure, Mike!” “Fill her up to the chin by the time we get back.” “Righto!” Quickly they walked to the hotel and in five minutes were seated beside a window in the dining-room, watching the lazy roll of the sea sweep in on the sands at low tide. “I'm hungry as a wolf!” he whispered. “So am I----” “We'll eat everything in sight--start at the top and come down.” He handed her the menu card and watched her from the depths beneath the drooping eyelids. Conscious of his gaze and rejoicing in its frank admiration, she ordered the dinner with instinctive good taste. No effort at conversation was made by either. They were both too hungry. As Jim lighted his cigarette when the coffee was served, he leaned back in his chair and watched the breakers in silence. “That's the best dinner I ever had in my life,” he said slowly. “It was good. We were hungry.” “I've been hungry before, many a time. It was something else, too.” He paused and rose abruptly. “Let's walk up the Beach.” “I'd love to,” she answered, slowly rising. CHAPTER VI. BESIDE THE SEA They strolled leisurely along the board-walk, found the sand, walked in the firm, dry line of the high-water mark for a mile to the east, and sat down on a clump of sea-grass on the top of a sand dune. “I like this!” she cried joyously. “So do I,” he answered soberly, and lapsed into silence. The sun was warm and genial. The wind had died, and the waves of the rising tide were creeping up the long, sloping stretches of the sand with a lazy, soothing rush. A winter gull poised above their heads and soared seaward. The smoke of an ocean liner streaked the horizon as she swept toward the channel off Sandy Hook. Jim looked at the girl by his side and tried to speak. She caught the strained expression in his strong face and lowered her eyes. He began to trace letters in the sand. She knew with unerring instinct that he had made his first desperate effort to speak his love and failed. Would he give it up and wait for weeks and possibly months--or would he storm the citadel in one mad rush at the beginning? He found his voice at last. He had recovered from the panic of his first impulse. “Well, how do you like my idea of a good day as far as you've gone?” he asked lightly. She met his gaze with perfect frankness. “The happiest day I ever spent in my life,” she confessed.