"Already? If the breakwater stands this--"

"The storm hasn't half started! Come! We'll watch it together."
He took her hand, and they lunged into the gale, battling their
way back to his point of vantage. He paused at length, and with
his arm about her pointed to the milk-white chaos which marked
Trevor's handiwork. The rain pelted against their faces and
streamed from their slickers.

The breakwater lay like a reef, and over it the sea was pounding
in mighty wrath. High into the air the waters rose, only to
disappear upon the bosom of the gale. They engulfed the structure
bodily, they raced along it with thunderous detonations, bursting
in a lather of rage. Out beyond, the billows appeared to be
sheared flat by the force of the wind, yet that ceaseless
upheaval of spume showed that the ocean was in furious tumult.
For moments at a time the whole scene was blotted out by the
scud, then the curtain would tear asunder and the wild scene
would leap up again before their eyes.

Eliza screamed a question at her companion, but he did not seem
to hear; his eyes roved back and forth along that lace-white
ridge of rock on the weakness of which depended his salvation.
She had never seen him so fierce, so hawklike, so impassive. The
gusts shook him, his garments slatted viciously, every rag
beneath his outer covering was sodden, yet he continued to face
the tempest as indifferently as he had faced it since the dawn.
The girl thrilled at thought of the issue these mighty forces
were fighting out before her eyes, and of what it meant to the
man beside her. His interests became hers; she shared his painful