A long, curling wave ran up the shingle and broke in a snow-white sheet of foam just below Dinah's feet. She was perched on a higher ridge of shingle, bareheaded, full in the glare of the mid-June sunlight. Her brown hands were locked tightly around her knees. Her small, pointed face looked wistfully over the sea.
She had been sitting in that position for a long time, her green eyes unblinking but swimming in the heat and glare. The dark ringlets on her forehead danced in the soft breeze that came over the water. There was tension in her attitude, the tension of deep and concentrated thought.
Into the midst of her meditations, there came a slow, halting step. It fell on the shingle behind her, reaching her above the roar of the breakers, and instantly a flood of colour rushed up over her face and neck.
Sharply she turned. "Scott!"
She was on her feet in a second with hand outstretched in welcome.
"Oh, how you startled me! How good of you to come so soon! I--shouldn't have left the house if I had known."
"I came at once," he said simply. "But I have only just got here. I saw you sitting on the shore and came straight to you. What news?"
His quiet, deliberate voice was in striking contrast to her agitated utterance. The hand that held hers was absolutely steady.
She met his look with confidence. "Scott, she is going. You knew it--didn't you?--when you were here last Sunday? She knew it too. She didn't want you to go really. And so--directly I realized she was worse--I sent for you. But--they say--even now she may linger for a little. But you'll stay, won't you? You won't go again?"
His grave eyes looked into hers. "Of course I will stay," he said.
She drew a quick sigh of relief. "She scarcely slept last night. Her breathing was so bad. It was very hot, you know. The nurse or I were fanning her nearly all the time, till the morning breeze came at last. And then she got quieter. She is asleep now. They say she will sleep for hours. And so I slipped out just for a little, so as to be quite fresh again when she wakes."
"Don't you sleep at all?" Scott asked gently.
The colour was fading from her face; it returned at his question. "Oh yes, any time. It doesn't matter for me. I am so strong. And I can sleep--afterwards."
He looked down at the thin little hand he still held. "You mustn't wear yourself out, Dinah," he said.