Belinda and Loring met very early in the lower hall as though by appointment. Neither had they slept well, but while Loring looked pale and rather haggard, the girl's face was fresh and beautifully ruddy with sea-water and defiant passion. She had come up from her morning dip in the sea, all tingling with love like Anadyomene.
They had fruit and coffee together, then went for that "long walk to the rocks." When they were safely out of reach of prying eyes, Belinda turned, expecting a repetition of yesterday's wild embrace.
But Loring sat with his arms about his knees. He looked harassed and rather glum. He was staring at the sea. Belinda kept her eyes on him. She had one of her admirable silences. She half knew what was coming, but she wanted Morry to "begin it."
"Linda," he said at last, still scowling at the milky-blue of the sea, "I rather think we're up against it—you and I...."
Belinda's eyes narrowed shrewdly.
"What's 'it,' Morry?" she asked.
He gave a jarring little laugh.
"'It' is ... Sophy."
"Mh!" said Belinda.