He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. He seemed to avoid meeting Anna’s eyes as much as possible. Clear water gave away to gray as she waded deeper, feeling her slippers on rock. ” She brought her knees up to her chest, and rocked back and forth like a small child. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. Why should he stare at her in this fashion?—for all the world as if she had pointed a pistol at his head? CHAPTER III He had said it, spoken it like that … his own name! After all these weeks of trying to obliterate even the memory of it!… to have given it to this girl without her asking! The thought of peril cleared a space in the alcoholic fog. ” He made to speak and did not. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her.
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