He nodded.
“Why don’t you speak? It is very impolite to nod a reply to such an important—question. I can’t—marry—you—away—out—here.”
They faced each other, and knew that they were out of breath.
“Out there is a bar. I have been watching it. We can rest there.”
But Brassid did not touch her to help.
Presently they reached it. Neither could have gone twenty yards further. Brassid turned and looked shoreward. Something suddenly gripped his heart. The Crazy-Quilt House was a distant blur against the horizon. There were people on the beach, but they were as ants. He kept her face seaward. A ship, hull down, was sailing from them.
“And presently, when we are quite rested, we shall go home.”
“I suppose so,” she said petulantly. “But, oh, it has been so lovely to-day!”
“But I am hungry.”
“Yes. Come.”