"You don't see—anything?" she said with an abrupt change of manner, swinging to the north.
He shaded his eyes, peering intently through the night, closely sweeping its encompassing obscurity from northwest to southeast.
"Nothing," he said, dropping his hand. "If there were a boat heading this way, we couldn't help seeing her lights."
"Then there's no use waiting?"
"I'm afraid not. They'd hardly come to-night, anyway; more likely by daylight, if they should happen to grow suspicious of our beacon."
"Then I think I'll go to bed. I'm very, very tired, in spite of my sleep on the sands. That didn't rest me, really."
"Of course."
"And you—?"
"Oh, I'm all right."
"But what are you going to do?"