The hurried rush of the little live thing roused Diana from her day-dreams, and looking up, she saw Max coming to her across the sands.
She watched the proud, free gait of the tall figure with appreciation in her eyes. There was something very individual and characteristic about Max's walk—a suggestion as of immense vitality held in check, together with a certain air of haughty resolution and command.
"I thought I might find you here," he said, when they had shaken hands.
"Did you want me?"
He looked at her with a curious expression in his eyes.
"I always want you, I think," he said simply.
"Well, you seem to have a faculty for always turning up when I want you," she replied. "I was just thinking how often you had appeared in the very nick of time. Seriously"—her voice took on a graver note—"I feel I can't ever repay you.—you've come to my help so often."
"There is a way," he said, very low, and then fell silent.
"Tell me," she urged him, smilingly. "I like to pay my debts."
He made no answer, and Diana, suddenly nervous and puzzled, continued a little breathlessly:—