roundings and circumstances, and
realize its independent existence.--A somewhat perilous crisis of
development, fruitful of escapades and unruly impulses which may leave
their mark, and that a disfiguring one, upon the whole of a woman's
subsequent career.

Immediately, however, Damaris' disposition to defy established convention
and routine took the mildest and apparently most innocuous form--merely
the making, by herself, of a little expedition which, accompanied by
others, she had made a hundred times before. From the terrace she went
down the flight of steps, built into the width of the sea-wall, whence a
tall wrought-iron gate opens direct upon the foreshore. Closing it behind
her, she followed the coastguard-path, at the base of the
river-bank--here a miniature sand cliff capped with gravel, from eight
to ten feet high--which leads to the warren and the ferry. For she would
take ship, with foxy-faced William Jennifer as captain and as crew, cross
to the broken-down wooden jetty and, landing there, climb the crown of
the Bar and look south-east, over the Channel highway, towards far
distant countries of the desert and the dawn.

CHAPTER IV

OUT ON THE BAR

All which was duly accomplished though with a difference. For on reaching
the head of the shallow sandy gully opening on the tide, where the
flat-bottomed ferry-boat lay, Damaris found not Jennifer but the withered
and doubtfully clean old lobster-catcher, Timothy Proud, in possession.
This disconcerted her somewhat. His appearance, indeed--as he stood
amongst a miscellaneous assortment of sun-bleached and weather-stained
foreshore lumber, leaning the ragged elbows of his blue jersey upon the
top of an empty petroleum barrel and smoking a dirty clay pipe--was so
far from inviting, that the young girl felt tempted to relinquish her
enterprise and go back by the way she had come.

But, as she hesitated, the old man catching sight of her and scenting
custom, first spat and then called aloud.

"Might 'e be wanting the Ferry, Miss?" Thus directly challenged, Damaris
could not but answer in the affirmative.

"Put 'e across to the Bar?" he took her up smartly. "Nat'rally I
will--bean't I here for the very purpose?--Put 'e across I will and on
the tick too."

And, after further expectoration, relinquishing the support of the oil
barrel, he joined her and shambled down the sandy track at her side,
talking. Damaris hastened her step; but bent back and cre