Louise had been wise enough to wear high shoes, so the sands above
high-water mark did not bother her. The waves lapped in softly,
spreading over the dimpling gray beach, their voice reduced to a
whispering murmur.
Along the crescent of the sands, above on the bluffs, were set the
homes of the summer residents--those whom Gusty Durgin, the waitress at
the hotel, termed "the big bugs." On the farthest point visible in
this direction was a sprawling, ornate villa with private dock and
boathouses, and a small breakwater behind which floated a fleet of
small craft. Louise heard the "put-put-a-put" of a motor and descried
a swift craft coming from this anchorage.
She saw, by sweeping it with her glance, that not a soul but herself
was on the shore--neither in the direction of the summer colony nor on
the other hand where the beach curved sharply out to the lighthouse at
the end of the Neck. The motor boat was fast approaching the spot
where Louise stood.
It being the single moving object on the scene, save the gulls, she
began to watch it.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113