"It might," the young woman conceded. "It might even alter matters altogether—but don't you think that even for a reunion we seem to have shaken hands almost long enough?"
With reluctance he released the captive fingers and reminded her that he was still unanswered.
"No," she told him, "I'm not married so far—of course I've tried hard, but the honest gander hasn't volunteered."
"Thank God!" was his instant and fervent comment.
Beyond her were the sands of the bar and the Atlantic Ocean stretching unbroken to the Madeiras and a flawless sky against which the gulls dipped and screamed.
She was straight and vivid, and his pulses quickened, taking fire. Sun, air and water; sparkle, radiance and color—these things were about him filling his senses with delight and she seemed to epitomize them all in a personal incarnation.
"Don't let me keep you standing," he begged her, belatedly remembering his manners. "You were taking your case when I came. Besides, Old Neptune in person will be along soon to claim this sandbar for himself. Meanwhile, 'The time has come,' the walrus said, 'to talk of many things.'"
"As for instance?"
"As for instance that there's less of the fortuitous in this meeting than appears upon the surface."