but could find nothing to say on the spur of
the moment. All women are born with the power to put a man into such a
position that he must either contradict himself, hold his tongue, or fly
into a senseless rage. They do this so easily, that even after the
experience of a life-time we never suspect the trap until they pull the
string and we are caught. Then, if we contradict ourselves, woman utters
an inhuman cry of triumph and jeers at our unstable purpose; if we lose
our tempers instead, she bursts into tears and calls us brutes; and
finally, if we say nothing, she declares, with a show of reason, that we
have nothing to say.

[Illustration: "HE FLUSHED AGAIN, VERY ANGRY THIS TIME, AND HE MOVED
AWAY TO LEAVE HER, WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD."]

Marcello lost his temper.

"You are quite right," he said angrily. "You are not worth caring for.
You are a mere child, and you are a miserable little flirt already, and
you will be a detestable woman when you grow up! You will lead men on,
and play with them, and then laugh at them. But you shall not laugh at
me again. You shall not have that satisfaction! You shall wish me back,
but I will not come, not if you break your silly little heart!"

With this terrific threat the boy strode away, leaving her to watch the
storm alone in the lee of the sandbank. Aurora knew that he really meant
to go this time, and at first she was rather glad of it, since he was in
such a very bad temper. She felt that he had insulted her, and if he had
stayed any longer she would doubtless have called him a brute, that
being the woman's retort under the circumstances. She had not the
slightest doubt of being quite reconciled with him before luncheon, of
course, but in her heart she wished that she had not made him angry. It
had been very pleasant to watch the storm together, and when they had
come to the place, she had felt a strong presentiment that he would kiss
her, and that the contrast between the kiss and the howling gale would
be very delightful.

The presentiment had certainly not come true, and now that Marcello was
gone it was not very amusing to feel the spray and the sand on her
face, or to watch the tumbling breakers and listen to the wind. Besides,
she had been there some time, and she had not even had her little
breakfast of coffee and rolls before coming down to the shore. She
suddenly felt hungry and cold and absurdly inclined to cry, and she
became aware that the sand had got into h