"Yes, and—and—a man—"
"Yes." Launcelot's voice was calm, but his hand on the tiller trembled.
She turned on him her startled eyes. "Do you know who it is?" she demanded.
"Yes."
"Who?"
"Look and see."
The man on the beach was gazing straight out across the bay, and in the clearness of the morning air, Judy made out his features, the pale dark face, the waving hair.
She clutched Launcelot's arm. "Who is it?" she demanded, looking as if she had seen a spirit. "Who is it, Launcelot?"
And then Launcelot gave a shout that woke Tommy.
"It's, oh, who do you think it is, Judy Jameson?"