"Can you find your way home—by yourself—little girl?"
"I ain't going home, Mister;—not yet. I came up here to get that basket you said you had for me; you know, the medium sized one."
"I'll give it to you—now."
Her hand caught at his hand that lay on her arm. Her fingers fastened themselves around his and held tightly. He had never felt anything like that. The touch of them was cool and fresh, like sea weed that had just drifted in from the sea.
And then from far off across the water came the shrill, piercing shriek of a gull.
He felt her start.
"That's only a sea-gull, little girl."
"I know, Mister. But don't it sound strange; almost as if it were the sea itself; calling for something."
For a second he could not speak.
"Why—;" his voice was hoarse, "Why d'you say that?"