"I cannot," she protested. "I am too frightened."
"Frightened! By a dream! In broad daylight!"
"But why are you so pale? What has alarmed you?"
"Can you ask? Did you not give the agreed signal?"
"Yes, but—"
Her inquiring glance fell. He was breathless from agitation rather than running. He was perturbed on her account. For an instant she had looked into his soul.
"I will go back," she said quietly, "though I would rather accompany you. What are you doing?"
"Seeking a place to lay our heads," he answered, with gruff carelessness. "You really must rest, Miss Deane. Otherwise you will be broken up by fatigue and become ill."
So Iris again sought her couch of sand, and the sailor returned to the skeleton. They separated unwillingly, each thinking only of the other's safety and comfort. The girl knew she was not wanted because the man wished to spare her some unpleasant experience. She obeyed him with a sigh, and sat down, not to sleep, but to muse, as girls will, round-eyed, wistful, with the angelic fantasy of youth and innocence.