In the eery light they might have been a fay and a faun in evening dress.
"Well," said Mr. Arnheim, exhaling loudly, "this is something like it."
"Ain't that a grand moon, though, Mr. Arnheim?"
"The moon 'ain't got a show when you're round, little one."
"I'll bet you say that to every girl you meet."
"Nix I do; but I know when a girl looks good to me."
"I wish I knew if you was jollyin' me or not."
He tossed his cigar into the surf that curled at their very feet, leaving a rim of foam and scum. The red end died with a fizz. Then he turned his dark eyes full upon her with a steady focus.
"If you knew me better you'd know that I ain't that sort of a fellow.
When I say a thing I mean it."
His hand lay outstretched; she poured rivulets of white sand between the fingers. They watched the little mounds of sand which she patted into shape.