They seldom arrive on the beach. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous. “He was in holy orders, and we were to have been married when he got a living. You are necessary to me. “I know nothing about your wife.
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