five thousand a year."

"Well, would you really want to keep on going, and take your wife? Or
would you settle down like the rest, and spend money so you could keep
in shape to make money to spend to keep in shape?"

"Seriously I would keep going--if I had the right girl to go with me.
It would be mighty important which one, though, I guess--and by that I
mean you. Once, when I quit flying, I thought that maybe I'd stop
wandering and settle down, maybe even marry a Joralemon kind of a
girl. But I was meant to hike for the hiking's sake.... Only, not
alone any more. I _need_ you.... We'd go and go. No limit.... And we
wouldn't just go places, either; we'd be different things. We'd be
Connecticut farmers one year, and run a mine in Mexico the next, and
loaf in Paris the next, if we had the money."

"Sometimes you almost tempt me to like you."

"Like me now!"

"No, not now, but---- Here's the board-walk."

"Where's those steps? Oh yes. Gee! I hate to leave the water without
having had a swim. Wish we'd had one. Dare you to go wading!"

"Oh, ought I to, do you think? Wading would be silly. And nice."

"Course you oughtn't. Come on. Don't you remember how the sand feels
between your toes?"

The moon brooded upon the lulled waves, and quested among the ridges
of driftwood for pearly shells. The pools left by the waves were
enticing. Ruth retreated into the shelter of the board-walk and came
shyly out, clutching her skirts, her feet and ankles silver in the
light.

"The sand does feel good, but uh! it's getting colder and colder!" she
wailed, as she cautiously advanced into the water. "I'll think up
punishments for you. You've not only caused me to be cold, but you've
made me abominably self-conscious."

"Don't be self-conscious, blessed. We are just children exploring." He
splashed out, coat off, trousers rolled to the knee above his thin,
muscular legs, galloping along the edge of the water like a large
puppy, while she danced after him.

They were stilled to the persuasive beauty of the night. Music from
the topaz jeweled hotels far down the beach wove itself into the peace
on land and sea. A fish lying on shore was turned by the moon into
ivory with carven scales. Before them, reaching to the ancient towers
of England and France and the islands of the sea, was the whispering
water. A tenderness that understood everything, made allowance for
everything in her and in himself, folded its wings round him as he