“Like a housewife of forty going placidly round with the duster—yes?” interrupted Helena.
“That is a schooner. You see her four sails, and—”
He continued to classify the shipping, until he was interrupted by the wicked laughter of Helena.
“That is right, I am sure,” he protested.
“I won’t contradict you,” she laughed, in a tone which showed him he knew even less of the classifying of ships than she did.
“So you have lain there amusing yourself at my expense all the time?” he said, not knowing in the least why she laughed. They turned and looked at one another, blue eyes smiling and wavering as the beach wavers in the heat. Then they closed their eyes with sunshine.
Drowsed by the sun, and the white sand, and the foam, their thoughts slept like butterflies on the flowers of delight. But cold shadows startled them up.
“The clouds are coming,” he said regretfully.
“Yes; but the wind is quite strong enough for them,” she answered,
“Look at the shadows—like blots floating away. Don’t they devour the sunshine?”