in. I want to look at the storm."

"So do I, but it won't do any good. I can't make it blow any
harder by getting my feet wet."

"You read your novel and talk to Mr. Trevor when he comes back.
He knows we're to blame for this storm, so you must be nice to
him. I can't." She clad herself in rain-coat, sou'wester, and
boots, and hurried out. Walking was difficult enough, even in the
shelter of the village, but not until she had emerged upon the
beach did she meet the full strength of the gale. Here it wrapped
her garments about her limbs until she could scarcely move. The
rain came horizontally and blinded her; the wind fairly snatched
her breath away and oppressed her lungs like a heavy weight. She
shielded herself as best she could, and by clinging to stationary
objects and watching her chance she managed to work her way
onward. At last she caught sight of O'Neil, standing high above
the surf, facing the wind defiantly, as if daring it to unfoot
him. He saw her and came in answer to her signal; but to breast
that wind was like stemming a rushing torrent, and when he
reached her side he was panting.

"Child! What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"I couldn't wait any longer," she shouted back. "You've been out
since daylight. You must be wet through."

He nodded. "I lay awake all night listening. So did Trevor. He's
beginning to worry already."