“That’s the reason I wanted to come again,” he said. “I love it.”
The words shook his nerves down, and he added: “But let’s go and freshen up.”
She followed him up the rocks to the little shabby building set into the cliff and overhanging the waves. She knew nothing of its secrets; no suspicion crossed her innocent mind that if its walls could speak, San Francisco, highly seasoned as it was, would shake to its roots, and heap up its record of suicide and divorce; but she wondered why two women, who came out and passed her hurriedly, were so heavily veiled, and why others, sitting in the large restaurant, had such queer-looking cheeks and eyes. Some inherited instinct forbade her to comment to Cecil, who did not give the women a glance. He led her to a little table at the end of the piazza, and ordered claret and water, tea, and a heaping plate of bread and butter.
It was some time before they were served, and they gazed delightedly at a big ship going out, and wished they were on it; at the glory of colour on the hills opposite; and at the seals chattering on the rocks below.
“It’s heavenly, perfectly heavenly,” sighed Lee. “I never had such a good time in all my life.”
She forgot her complexion and took off her hat. The salt breeze stung the blood into her cheeks, and her eyes danced with joy.
The waiter brought the little repast. The children sipped and nibbled and chattered. Cecil scarcely took his eyes off the water. He and his father went off on sailing and fishing excursions every summer, he told Lee, and he was so keen on the water that it had taken him fully three months after he entered Eton to decide whether he would be a “wet bob,” or a “dry bob.” Cricket had triumphed, because he loved to feel his heels fly.
Lee gave him a divided attention: her brain was fairly dancing, and seemed ready to fly off in several different directions at once. “Oh!” she cried suddenly, “I’m not a bit tired any more. I feel as if I could walk miles and miles. Let’s have an adventure. Wouldn’t it be just glorious if we could have an adventure?”
The boy’s eyes flashed. “Oh, would you. I’ve been thinking about it—but you’re a girl. But you’re such a jolly sort! We’ll get one of those fishing-boats to take us out to sea, and climb up and down those big waves. Oh, fancy! I say!—will you?”
“Oh, won’t I? Youbetcherlife I will.”