She caught him looking at her and he blushed a little. "I don't think I could swim that distance," she said, turning her eyes again in the direction of St. Gaved Point.
"I don't think you would be wise to attempt it." Then he blushed again, for she turned on him a swift and searching glance, while her lips parted in a smile that seemed to say, "I did not ask you for advice."
For a moment there was silence, then she said, "Do you know the sea has been calling me ever since I came."
"Calling you?" he questioned.
"Well, I mean it fascinates me, if you understand. I want to get close to it, to paddle in it. It is so beautiful. It looks so cool and friendly. Beryl says she cannot bear the sea; that it is not friendly a bit; that it is cruel and noisy, and treacherous."
"Ah! she has lived near the sea most of her life."
"And yet you can scarcely see it from the Hall."
"But it can be heard on stormy nights, and when a westerly gale is raging its voice is terrible."
"You have lived here all your life?" and her lips parted in the most innocent smile.
"Here, and in a neighbouring parish," he answered, frankly.