he stopped abruptly. She turned aside. He could see her lower lip was indrawn.
"Forgive me," he said contritely, "I'm all jangly to-day. It's that girl's ankles," he added whimsically. "I didn't want to be serious; but you would make me, and now you're angry."
Her head was still turned from him. What a brute he had been, and how sensitive she was.
"Lola, please forgive me."
It was the first time he had used her name. It slipped out unconsciously. He thrilled at the sound. She turned, tears dewing her lower lashes. Then with a sudden movement she sprang up.
"Now we must be going," she cried with a sudden change of mood; "I do nothing but eat, sleep and sit about. You know," she said turning to him with a smile, "we women have to consider our figures, and you're helping me to ruin mine."
Beresford followed her, his mind in a whirl at the sudden change in her mood.
For the rest of the morning she was in the highest of high spirits. She insisted on scrambling down to the water, and soon succeeded in getting both her own and Beresford's feet soaked.
"Look!" she cried, drawing back her skirts to show the darker line just above her ankles where the water had reached.
"I'm just as wet, and a lot more uncomfortable," he replied lugubriously, as he looked down at his brown boots discoloured by the sea-water. "I hate walking in wet boots."
