He hiked it out and gave it to her.
"You know the island, don't you?"
"Every inch of it."
"Where do you propose that I shall undress?"
"Come along and I'll show you." He started off, clambering over the brown rocks.
She followed to a place about a hundred yards away,—a sort of cave on a tiny spread of beach. "Oh, how perfectly delightful," she cried. "Built for bathing, isn't it?"
"Don't go in before I come back. There's a strong undertow here. Sing out when you're ready," and away he went.
Beatrix chose a dry spot on the sand and without a second's hesitation sat down and started to untie her shoes. She longed to get into the sea, to enjoy the exhilaration of exercise, to feel the warm sun on her wet limbs and be a child of Nature. Franklin might talk as glibly as he liked about the good old days but he was a sportsman. She had no fear.
He hadn't long to wait. He got into his bathing things and had only taken two puffs of a cigarette before he heard her call. Once more he climbed over and down the rocks,—stopped for a moment and drew in his breath at the sight of her,—and then went on.
She waved her hand. She was standing ankle-deep in the sea with a red rubber cap drawn tightly over her hair, without stockings and in a suit that looked like a boy's. "Delicious," she called out.