She was older, but he knew her now. Her face was wet; but of course, for she had been wriggling in the surf like a mermaid. He felt a trifle angry with her: she had got ahead of him, then. He was opening his mouth to speak when she asked him exactly the same thing: “How did _you_ get here?” He must be careful: if he told her too much she might give him away. She never could keep a secret. “I’ve always been here,” he said. “It isn’t fair for you to tag along. Go home.” Then he realized it was no use to talk to her like that. Why, she seemed older than he: she had even begun to get soft and bulgy, like ladies. But she looked so frightened, he took her hand. “We can’t both do it,” he said. “They’ll find out. Bunny, you’re not playing fair.” “I am, I am!” she cried. “I’m not playing at all. _You_ go away. You’ll be sorry.” It was awful to see her look so anxious. “You used to be a laughing girl,” he said, “and laughing girls are different. What’s happened to you anyway?” She gazed at him strangely, with so much love in her face he felt she must be ill. “This is no place for you,” he said firmly. “Here among strangers. You’ll be lonely. _I_ can’t look after you.” “They aren’t strangers. Oh, please go back before you find out.” This was all senseless and annoying; yet he was sorry for her too. I know what’s the matter with her, he thought. He accused her of it. “No, no!” she said piteously. “No, Martin. Not that. I nearly did, but not really.” “I dare say it wasn’t your fault,” he said; and then, remembering a useful phrase, “You’ll have to excuse me now.” He saw Mr. Granville approaching down the sandy ravine. “Here’s one of them coming.” “Tell me,” she said quickly. “Do you like them?” “Why, yes, they’re nice. They’re a bit queer. They seem to worry about things.--They like _me_,” he added proudly. He could see Mr. Granville waving to them to take shelter in the cabin. The bay was already scarred with the onset of the squall. “Hurry!” Martin said. “Come on, we’ll wait in the bath house until the storm’s over.” They ran together, stumbling up the heavy sand, she lightly, not dragging behind as she usually did. When he reached the door, pulling it open against the first volley of the rain, it was not her hand that he held, but a cold smooth shell. IX