bathing
attire, happy, thoughtless,--animal.

The sun and the sea seemed to him two lovers vying for his favor. The
sudden change of environment had brought complete relaxation and had
quieted his rebellious, assertive soul. He was no longer a solitary unit
but one with wind and water, herb and beach and shell. Almost
voluptuously his hand toyed with the hot sand that glided caressingly
through his fingers and buried his breast and shoulder under its
glittering burden.

A summer girl who passed lowered her eyes coquettishly. He watched her
without stirring. Even to open his mouth or to smile would have seemed
too much exertion.

Thus he lay for hours. When at length noon drew nigh, it cost him a
great effort of will to shake off his drowsy mood and exchange his airy
costume for the conventional habilaments of the dining-room.

He had taken lodgings in a fashionable hotel. An unusual stroke of good
luck, hack-work that paid outrageously well, had made it possible for
him to idle for a time without a thought of the unpleasant necessity of
making money.

One single article to which he signed his name only with reluctance had
brought to him more gear than a series of golden sonnets.

"Surely," he thought, "the social revolution ought to begin from above.
What right has the bricklayer to grumble when he receives for a week's
work almost more than I for a song?"

Thus soliloquising, he reached the dining-room. The scene that unfolded
itself before him was typical--the table over-loaded, the women
over-dressed.

The luncheon was already in full course when he came. He mumbled an
apology and seated himself on the only remaining chair next to a youth
who reminded him of a well-dressed dummy. With slight weariness his eyes
wandered in all directions for more congenial faces when they were
arrested by a lady on the opposite side of the table. She was clad in a
silk robe with curiously embroidered net-work that revealed a nervous
and delicate throat. The rich effect of the net-work was relieved by the
studied simplicity with which her heavy chestnut-colored hair was
gathered in a single knot. Her face was turned away from him, but there
was something in the carriage of her head that struck him as familiar.
When at last she looked him in the face, the glass almost fell from his
hand: it was Ethel Brandenbourg. She seemed to notice his embarrassment
and smiled. When she opened her lips to speak, he knew by the haunting
swe