Progress was difficult against the wind bitter with salt and driven sand, carrying a heavy shopping basket. The stranger almost collided with her, and drew on one side with apologies. He glanced at the girl, and then politely asked if he might carry the basket, and with quiet insistence took it from her.
“The storm is very bad just here between the bungalows,” he said. “I will come with you for a little way if I may.”
With his cultured tone there was a note of determination, and Ena was glad of his help, besides being amused at his presumption. He walked beside her regardless of the pools of water, sheltering her from the worst of the storm, till they came to her bungalow, which was all dark and forbidding.
“This is where we live,” she said “but my brother is evidently not back yet; won’t you come in and wait for the rest of the storm to blow over, he cannot be long.”
“My name is Halley,” said the man, bowing slightly. “I am staying here for a short time, but I think I had better get back; I shall have the wind behind me, you see.”
Ena glanced at him, and noticed in the dim light that he was tall and fragile-looking.
“Are you afraid of coming in?” she asked with a mocking laugh, “or is it merely a question of convention?”
“Neither, Miss …” he began.
“Sefton is my name … Ena Sefton, and my brother’s name is Jack.”
Her manner was refreshing and he judged her very young.