from her every step. From time to time she would raise her skirts
daintily with the tips of her fingers, and lean far over in order to
observe with interest how her feet sank to the ankles, and how the
sand rushed from either side to fill in the depressions. The wind
carried up to Orde low, joyous chuckles of delight, like those of a
happy child.

As though directed by some unseen guide, her course veered more and
more until it led directly to the spot where Orde stood. When she
was within ten feet of him she at last raised her head so the young
man could see something besides the top of her hat. Orde looked
plump into her eyes.

"Hullo!" she said cheerfully and unsurprised, and sank down cross-
legged at his feet.

Orde stood quite motionless, overcome by astonishment. Her face,
its long oval framed in the bands of the gray veil and the down-
turned brim of the hat, looked up smiling into his. The fresh air
had deepened the colour beneath her skin and had blown loose stray
locks of the fine shadow-filled hair. Her red lips, with the
quaintly up-turned corners, smiled at him with a new frankness, and
the black eyes--the eyes so black as to resemble spots--had lost
their half-indolent reserve and brimmed over quite frankly with the
joy of life. She scooped up a handful of the dry, clean sand from
either side of her, raised it aloft, and let it trickle slowly
between her fingers. The wind snatched at the sand and sprayed it
away in a beautiful plume.

"Isn't this REAL fun?" she asked him.