m.... Well, Bridget had loved
him very tenderly, and of all the women he had ever known, she seemed to
him to be the most beautiful. But Mrs. Graham was more beautiful than
Bridget, more beautiful than Bridget could ever be. There was something
so exquisite in her movements, her smile (Mary had her smile) and her
soft sweet voice with its slight Devonshire burr, that Henry felt he
wished to sit beside her and walk with her and always be by her. His
sudden, growing love for her made him feel bold, and he lost the shy,
nervous sensation he had had when he first came into her presence and
heard her call him "Mr. Quinn," and so, when Ninian and Mary talked
about the trawlers, he turned to Mrs. Graham quite naturally, and said,
"Won't you come to the beach, too, Mrs. Graham?" Instantly Ninian and
Mary were clamorous that she should go with them, and so she
consented....

"We'll have to hurry," said Mary, "because the boats come in awf'lly
quick."

"My dear, I can't run," Mrs. Graham said.

It was Ninian who suggested that Widger should harness the pony and that
they should drive down to the beach in the buggy....

"Yes, yes," said Mary.

And Ninian went off to tell Widger to hurry harder than he had ever
hurried before in his life.

"I'll do that for 'ee, Mas'er Ninyan, sure 'nough!" said Widger.

But Ninian and Mary were too impatient to wait for the buggy, and so
they set off together, leaving Henry to follow with Mrs. Graham.

"Quinny'll drive you down, mater," Ninian said.

Mrs. Graham turned to Henry. "You won't let Peggy run away with me, will
you?" she said, pretending to be alarmed, and Mary and Ninian burst into
laughter at the thought of Peggy ... which was short for Pegasus ...
running away with any one.

"He's fat and lazy," said Ninian.

"He goes to sleep in the shafts," Mary added, running out of the
drawing-room on Ninian's heels.

6

Boveyhayne Bay is a little bay within the very large bay that is guarded
at one end by Portland Bill and at the other end by Start Point. It lies
in the shelter of two white cliffs which keep its water quiet even when
the sea outside is rough, and so it is a fine home for fishermen though
there is no harbour and the trawlers have to be hauled up the shingly
beach every night. Nowhere else on that coast are chalk cliffs to be
found, and the sudden whiteness of Boveyhayne Head and the White Cliff
shining out of the red clay of the adjoining cliffs is a sign to
s