er tugged at her limbs as though
to draw her backward in the wake of her unquiet thoughts.

Somebody threw a tennis-ball at her; she caught it and hurled it in
return; and for a few minutes the white, felt-covered balls flew back
and forth from scores of graceful, eager hands. A moment or two passed
when no balls came her way; she turned and walked to the foot of a dune
and seated herself cross-legged on the hot sand.

Sometimes she watched the ball players, sometimes she exchanged a word
of amiable commonplace with people who passed or halted to greet her.
But she invited nobody to remain, and nobody ventured to, not even
several very young and ardent gentlemen who had acquired only the
rudiments of social sense. For there was a sweet but distant look in her
dark-blue eyes and a certain reserved preoccupation in her
acknowledgment of salutations. And these kept the would-be adorer
moving--wistful, lagging, but still moving along the edge of that
invisible barrier set between her and the world with her absent-minded
greeting, and her serious, beautiful eyes fixed so steadily on a distant
white spot--the sponson canoe where Gladys and Selwyn sat, their paddle
blades flashing in the sun.

How far away they were. . . . Gerald was with them. . . . Curious that
Selwyn had not seen her waiting for him, knee-deep in the surf--curious
that he had seen Gladys instead. . . . True, Gladys had called to him
and signalled him, white arm upflung. . . . Gladys was very pretty--with
her heavy, dark hair and melting, Spanish eyes, and her softly rounded,
olive-skinned figure. . . . Gladys had called to him, and _she_ had not.
. . . That was true; and lately--for the last few days--or perhaps
more--she herself had been a trifle less impulsive in her greeting of
Selwyn--a little less _sans-facon_ with him. . . . After all, a man
comes when it pleases him. Why should a girl call him?--unless
she--unless--unless--

Perplexed, her grave eyes fixed on the sea where now the white canoe
pitched nearer, she dropped both hands to the sand--those once
wonderfully white hands, now creamed with sun tan; and her arms, too,
were tinted from shoulder to finger-tip. Then she straightened her
legs, crossed her feet, and leaned a trifle forward, balancing her body
on both palms flat on the sand. The sun beat down on her; she loosened
her hair to dry it, and as she shook her delicate head the superb
red-gold mass came tumbling about her face and should