They began to make their way cautiously through the sprawling crowd, until they finally came upon a small clearing in the sand and hurriedly staked out their claim.
Buster was wearing a pair of swimming-trunks under his clothes, and he was quickly stripped off. Pete eyed his muscles and his tanned body enviously.
Both the girls took off their shoes and stockings and slid out of their dresses. They both wore one-piece suits under their dresses, and Pete felt a little pang run through him when he looked at Frances. She had on an oyster-coloured swim-suit that moulded itself to her body. He thought she had the most beautiful figure he had ever seen.
As she adjusted her bathing cap, she went over to him.
“You’re sure you don’t mind being left? I’d just as soon stay.”
“No, it’s all right. I’ll wait for you.”
“Oh, come on, Frankie!” Bunty cried impatiently, and catching hold of Buster’s hand she ran with him down to the breakers and plunged in.
Frances smiled at Pete. It was unbelievable, he thought, a lump coming into his throat, that a girl as lovely as she was could look at him and smile at him like this: just as if he were an ordinary human being like Buster.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, and went after the other two.
Pete sat with his fingers laced around his knees, his shoulders hunched, and watched her long, slim legs, her straight boyish back as she ran with that slightly awkward movement most young girls have when they run.