with her face to the
sunlit sea, and told herself that her summer in England had been all
too short. She had an almost passionate longing for just one more year
of home.

A pebble skimming past her and leaping from ripple to ripple like, a
living thing caught her attention. She turned sharply, and the next
moment smiled a welcome.

Nick had come up behind her unperceived. She greeted him with pleasure
unfeigned. She was tired of her own morbid thoughts just then.
Whatever he might be, he was at least never depressing.

"I'm saying good-bye," she told him. "I don't suppose I shall ever
come here again."

He came and stood beside her while he grubbed in the sand with a
stick.

"Not even to see me?" he suggested.

"Are you going to live here?" she asked in surprise.

"Oh, I suppose so," said Nick, "when I marry."

"Are you going to be married?" Almost in spite of her the question
leapt out.

He looked up, grinning shrewdly. "I put it to you," he said. "Am I the
sort of man to live alone?"

She experienced a curious sense of relief. "But you are not alone in
the world," she pointed out. "You have relations."

"You regard marriage as a last resource?" questioned Nick.

She coloured and turned her face to the shore. "I don't think any man
ought to marry unless--unless--he cares," she said, striving hard to
keep the personal note out of her voice.

"Exactly," said Nick, moving beside her. "But doesn't that remark
apply to women as well?"

She did not answer him. A discussion on this topic was the last thing
she desired.

He did not press the point, and she wondered a little at his
forbearance. She glanced at him once or twice as they walked, but his
humorous, yellow face told her nothing.

Reaching some rocks, he suddenly stopped. "I've got to get some
seaweed for Olga. Do you mind waiting?"

"I will help you," she answered.

He shook his head. "No, you are tired. Just sit down in the sun. I
won't be long."

She seated herself without protest, and he turned to leave her. A few
paces from her he paused, and she saw that he was trying to light a
cigarette. He failed twice, and impulsively she sprang up.

"Nick, why don't you ask me to help you?"

He whizzed round. "Perhaps I don't want you to," he said quizzically.

She took the match-box from him. "Don't be absurd! Why shouldn't I?"
She struck a match and held it out to him. But he did not take it
from her. He took her wrist instead, and stooping