“Heard a lot about you!” said Percy Pollock, who was a beautiful blond person, slightly older than the girls. “You were the terror at Hill Top, weren’t you?”
“I didn’t have much chance. I was only there one year,” laughed Isabelle.
“I hope you’ll wake up this dull isle,” said he.
“Dull?” cried Isabelle, blushing furiously at her tone.
They all sat down together, in the aimless way of holiday makers, but Isabelle’s eyes were ever on the door. Where was the man? Did he lie abed all morning? And such a morning!
“Isabelle, let’s go for a walk down the beach. I’ve such heaps to tell you about Hill Top.”
“Good idea,” said Percy, promptly.
“Not you. Just Isabelle and me. We want to talk.”
“I—think I won’t this morning. I—I’d rather not,” began Isabelle.