He stood a little back from her then. A glint of the setting sun, through a break in the flying clouds, came from across the range of tossing waters and seemed to single him out, throwing into relief against the background of the cliffs the great strong figure, clothed in the dark shirt and belted trousers which the coast-guard men had furnished him. The loose flannel shirt, low at the neck with its turn-down collar, hid nothing of the splendid breadth of shoulder that seemed so proudly glad to poise the well-set, shapely head. The weeks in the woods had bronzed and tanned his face, the dark hair had lost its hideous shortness and was beginning to wave a little now—the beauty of clean-lived young manhood in all its rugged power was dominant in every feature.
His eyes; were on the surf—hers had lifted and were studying him. She had tried to picture him without the prison stripes—how little, how crudely she had succeeded!
With a quick intake of her breath, she spoke again, hurriedly now, as though brought suddenly to a realisation of the present.
"Oh," she said, "there is so much to say—and there is so little time."
"Time?" he echoed mechanically—and looked at her.
She nodded. "Yes. Let us go over there beyond those rocks"—pointing with her hand—"away from the path here. Some one is liable to come down at any time."
She started forward as she spoke, and Varge followed her. She sat down upon the sand, her back against a boulder; he took his place before her, full length upon
