gloomy sea the sky grew red. Quickly the fire
spread among the clouds and scattered them. Crimson burned to orange,
orange to dull gold, and in a golden glitter the sun came up, dribbling
fierily over the waves in little splashes, as if someone had gone along
and the light had spilled from her pail as she walked.

The breakers ran down the shore in long, hoarse strokes. Tiny seagulls,
like specks of spray, wheeled above the line of surf. Their crying
seemed larger than they. Far away the coast reached out, and melted into
the morning, the tussocky sandhills seemed to sink to a level with the
beach. Mablethorpe was tiny on their right. They had alone the space of
all this level shore, the sea, and the upcoming sun, the faint noise of
the waters, the sharp crying of the gulls.

They had a warm hollow in the sandhills where the wind did not come. He
stood looking out to sea.

"It's very fine," he said.

"Now don't get sentimental," she said.

It irritated her to see him standing gazing at the sea, like a solitary
and poetic person. He laughed. She quickly undressed.

"There are some fine waves this morning," she said triumphantly.

She was a better swimmer than he; he stood idly watching her.

"Aren't you coming?" she said.

"In a minute," he answered.

She was white and velvet skinned, with heavy shoulders. A little wind,
coming from the sea, blew across her body and ruffled her hair.

The morning was of a lovely limpid gold colour. Veils of shadow seemed
to be drifting away on the north and the south. Clara stood shrinking
slightly from the touch of the wind, twisting her hair. The sea-grass
rose behind the white stripped woman. She glanced at the sea, then
looked at him. He was watching her with dark eyes which she loved and
could not understand. She hugged her breasts between her arms, cringing,
laughing:

"Oo, it will be so cold!" she said.

He bent forward and kissed her, held her suddenly close, and kissed her
again. She stood waiting. He looked into her eyes, then away at the pale
sands.

"Go, then!" he said quietly.

She flung her arms round his neck, drew him against her, kissed him
passionately, and went, saying:

"But you'll come in?"

"In a minute."

She went plodding heavily over the sand that was soft as velvet. He,
on the sandhills, watched the great pale coast envelop her. She grew
smaller, lost proportion, seemed only like a large white bird toiling
forward.

"Not much more than