ed at the cripple with
thoughtful eyes.

"I live alone, too," she said. "That is--Caesar and I."

That successfully aroused Durant's curiosity.

"You!" he said incredulously.

She put up her hand with a quick movement and pushed the short curls
back from her forehead.

"I am used to it," she said, with an odd womanly dignity. "I have been
practically alone all my life."

Durant looked at her closely. She spoke in a very low voice, but there
were rich notes in it that caught his attention.

"Isn't that very unusual for a girl of your age?" he said.

She smiled again without answering. A blue sunbonnet dangled on her arm.
In the silence that followed she put it on. The great dog arose at the
action, stretched himself, and went to her side. She laid her hand on
his head.

"We play hide-and-seek, Caesar and I," she said, "among the dunes."

Durant took his crutches and stumbled with difficulty to his feet. The
lower part of his body was terribly crippled and weak. Only the broad
shoulders of the man testified to the splendid strength that had once
been his, and could never be his again as long as he lived. He saw the
girl turn her head aside as he moved. The sunbonnet completely hid her
face. A sharp spasm of pain set his own like a stone mask.

Suddenly she looked round.

"Will you--will you come and see me some day?" she asked him shyly.

Her tone was rather of request than invitation, and Durant was curiously
touched. He had a feeling that she awaited his reply with eagerness.

He smiled for the first time.

"With pleasure," he said courteously, "if the path is easy and the
distance not too great for my powers."

"It is quite close," she said readily, "hardly a stone's throw from
here--a little wooden cottage--the first you come to."

"And you live quite alone?" Durant said.

"I like it best," she assured him.

"Will you tell me your name?" he asked.

"My name is Molly," she answered quietly.

"Nothing else?" said Durant with a puzzled frown.

"Nothing else, sir," she said, with her air of womanly dignity.

He made no outward comment, but inwardly he wondered. Was this odd
little, dark-haired creature some nameless waif of the sea brought up on
the charity of the fisher-folk, he asked himself.

She stood aside for him to pass, drawing Caesar out of his way. He
stopped a moment to pat the dog's head. And so standing, leaning upon
his crutches, he suddenly and keenly looked into the olive-tint