She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. Lucy tried not to make her cringe noticeable. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. She pushed him gently on the chest. It was the blouse that gave Lucy away. ‘But then again, possibly not. The dress of the dwarfish Jew was not, however, favourable to this expedient. The Dawn Pearl! To be with her constantly, with no diversions to serve as barricades! Damn McClintock for putting this thought in his head—that Ruth loved him! He flung himself upon the beach, face downward, his outflung hands digging into the sand: which was oddly like his problem—he could not grip it.
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