"Somebody might see us."
"Let them. It's no crime to stroll down to the beach."
"Somebody might object to my monopolising you like this."
"Who, Mona?"
"No; not Mona."
"Who, then?"
"Is there no one who might justly do so?"
"No, indeed! Unless Mrs. Parsons thinks I'm neglecting her."
"Nonsense. I don't mean her. But, what about Miss Dow?"
"Daisy Dow! Well, Miss Fairfield, I'm a blunt Westerner, and I don't know how to say these things subtly, but when you imply that Daisy has any special interest in me, you do me undeserved honour. I've known her for years, and we're good chums, but she'd have no right to comment if I walked down to the sea, or into it, or across it. NOW, will you be good?" They had reached the beach, and stood looking at the great rollers coming in, their white crests tinged by the last rays of the setting sun, which flashed a good-bye at them from the opposite horizon.