“I–I–there was a shaded pool around the point, and she thought a dip in the salt water would refresh her. She went not more than half an hour ago.”
“So that’s it. Well, while I eat, you go and call her–and say, you keep this side the point. I’m looking out for Miss Leslie now.”
Winthrope hurried away, clenching his fists and almost weeping with impotent rage. Truly, matters were now very different from what they had been aboard ship. Fortunately he had not gone a dozen steps before Miss Leslie appeared around the corner of the cliff. He was scrambling along over the loose stones of the slope without the slightest consideration for his ankle. The girl, more thoughtful, waved to him to wait for her where he was.
As she approached, Blake’s frown gave place to a look that made his face positively pleasant. He had already drained the cocoanuts; now he proceeded to smash the shells into small bits, that he might eat the meat, and at the same time keep his gaze on the girl. The cliff foot being well shaded by the towering wall of rock, she had taken off his coat, and was carrying it on her arm; so that there was nothing to mar the effect of her dainty openwork waist, with its elbow sleeves and graceful collar and the filmy veil of lace over the shoulders and bosom. Her skirt had been washed clean by the rain, and she had managed to stretch it into shape before drying.
Refreshed by a nap in the forenoon and by her salt-water dip, she showed more vivacity than at any time that Winthrope could remember during their acquaintance. Her suffering during and since the storm had left its mark in the dark circles beneath her hazel eyes, but this in no wise lessened their brightness; while the elasticity of her step showed that she had quite recovered her well-bred ease and grace of movement.
She bowed and smiled to the two men impartially. “Good-afternoon, gentlemen.”
“Same to you, Miss Leslie!” responded Blake, staring at her with frank admiration. “You look fresh as a daisy.”
Genial and sincere as was his tone, the familiarity jarred on her sensitive ear. She colored as she turned from him.
“Is there anything new, Mr. Winthrope?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not, Miss Genevieve. Like ourselves, Blake took a nap.”