played in spring-tides. Just beyond the Point, Brainard came to the Inlet and crossed, dry-shod, the passage between ocean and lagoon which had carried a ten-foot channel three months before. Now he could see, three miles to the northward, the long pier and the clustered roofs of the great hotel buildings. He had often come thus far on patrol, but had always gazed at the glittering resort as forbidden ground until he should regain his rightful place among these pleasure-seekers.
Soon he passed through a noble avenue arched with palms, and came to lawns that almost lipped the sea. After the smarting dazzle of sand and ocean, this lush, green vista was like cold water to a thirsty man. Parties of golfers were drifting across the background; white and fluffy gowns gleamed in the shrubbery. But when the wayfarer advanced to the long hotel piazza the smartly voluble groups of men and women made him unexpectedly timorous. Obtaining a room, he slipped through the crowded and colorful corridor to the nearest elevator, oblivious that more than one woman turned to look
