“It had better be,” she said, as if speaking deliberately to herself, and still looking away. But suddenly she turned towards him, and the tears sprang to her eyes, and the words rushed out fiercely, “I wish I had never left Cyrusville. I wish I had never been abroad. I wish I had never been educated. It is all a wretched mistake.” King was unprepared for such a passionate outburst. It was like a rift in a cloud, through which he had a glimpse of her real life. Words of eager protest sprang to his lips, but, before they could be uttered, either her mood had changed or pride had come to the rescue, for she said: “How silly I am! Everybody has discontented days. Mr. King, please don't ask me such questions. If you want to be a friend, you will let me be unhappy now and then, and not say anything about it.” “But, Miss Benson--Irene--” “There--'Miss Benson' will do very well.” “Well, Miss--Irene, then, there was something I wanted to say to you the other day in Paradise--” “Look, Mr. King. Did you see that wave? I'm sure it is nearer our feet than when we sat down here.” “Oh, that's just an extra lift by the wind. I want to tell you. I must tell you that life--has all changed since I met you--Irene, I--” “There! There's no mistake-about that. The last wave came a foot higher than the other!” King sprang up. “Perhaps it is the tide. I'll go and see.” He ran up the rock, leaped across the fissures, and looked over on the side they had ascended. Sure enough, the tide was coming in. The stones on which they had stepped were covered, and a deep stream of water, rising with every pulsation of the sea, now, where there was only a rivulet before. He hastened back. “There is not a moment to lose. We are caught by the tide, and if we are not off in five minutes we shall be prisoners here till the turn.” He helped her up the slope and over the chasm. The way was very plain when they came on, but now he could not find it. At the end of every attempt was a precipice. And the water was rising. A little girl on the shore shouted to them to follow along a ledge she pointed out, then descend between two bowlders to the ford. Precious minutes were lost in accomplishing this circuitous descent, and then they found the stepping-stones under water, and the sea-weed swishing about the slippery rocks with the incoming tide. It was a ridiculous position for lovers, or even “friends”--ridiculous because it had no element of danger except the ignominy of getting wet. If there was any heroism in seizing Irene before she could protest, stumbling with his burden among the slimy rocks, and depositing her, with only wet shoes, on the shore, Mr. King shared it, and gained the title of “Life-preserver.” The adventure ended with a laugh.