“My queen of girls! But what of your relatives?”
A gleam of fun passed across her wet face. She had her droll look of mischief.
“You are all of them. I was of age long ago—I am awfully old, you know—you take me with your eyes open—”
“I can’t; yours dazzle me.”
“That’ll do for the comedy,” she laughed, gleefully. “Still, if you do want me, there are only you and I to consider.”
“Only we two,” he murmured.
“We two,” she repeated, and her eyes were suffused with tender moisture.
There was a delicious silence. He tried to take her hand. This time she abandoned it to him; a wave of moral emotion lifted her to the stars.
The wind wailed, the black sea crashed white at their feet, its whirling brine blinded their eyes as with salt tears.
“Isn’t it curious?” she said, as they moved back a little, hand in hand.