stake and
rushed over the sand-dunes to the beach. They explored their domain from
end to end within an hour. Not a tree obscured the endless panorama of
sea and bay and waving grass on the great solemn marshes. Piles of soft,
warm seaweed lay in long, dark rows along the high-tide mark.

Mary selected a sand-dune almost exactly the height and shape of the one
on which they sat at Long Beach the day he told her of his love.

"Here's the spot for our home!" she cried. "Don't you recognize it?"

"Can't say I've ever been here before. Oh, I got you--I got you! Long
Beach--sure! What do you think of that?"

He hurried to the boat and brought the tent. Mary carried the spade, the
pole and pegs.

In half an hour the little white home was shining on the level sand at
the foot of their favorite dune. The door was set toward the open sea,
and the stove securely placed beneath an awning which shaded it from the
sun's rays.

"Now, Kiddo, a plunge in that shining water the first thing. I'll give
you the tent. I'll chuck my things out here."

In a fever of joyous haste she threw off her clothes and donned the
dainty, one-piece bathing suit. She flew over the sand and plunged into
the water before Jim had finished changing to his suit.

She was swimming and diving like a duck in the lazy, beautiful waters of
the Gulf when he reached the beach.

"Come on! Come on!" she shouted.

He waved his hand and finished his cigarette.

"It's glorious! It's mid-summer!" she called.

With a quick plunge he dived into the water, disappeared and stayed
until she began to scan the surface uneasily. With a splash he rose by
her side, lifting her screaming in his arms. Her bathing-cap was brushed
off, and he seized her long hair in his mouth, turned and with swift,
strong beat carried her unresisting body to the beach.

He drew her erect and looked into her smiling face.

"That's the way I'd save you if you had called for help. How'd you like
it?"

"It was sweet to give up and feel myself in your power, dear!"

His drooping eyes were devouring her exquisite figure outlined so
perfectly in the clinging suit.

"I was afraid to wear this in New York," she said demurely.

"I can't blame you. If you'd ever have gone on the beach at Coney Island
in that, there'd have been a riot."

He lifted her in his arms and kissed her.

"And you're all mine, Kiddo! It's too good to be true! I'm afraid to
wake up mornings now for fear I'll find I'