lament, and the air was filled with their flying fragments. From the beach came the great call of a raging surf and the sting of spray driven inland. Once, during his cyclonic hours in the "Casino," Brainard had heard the rising storm cry over the roof, but its summons had been unheeded. It had vaguely reminded him of duty, but even now he thought only of his lawless wealth as he strode toward the beach while "Toodles" Brown galloped clumsily in his wake.
When they passed beyond the sheltering lee of the last hotel building, the might of the "norther" buffeted them breathless. Brainard staggered out to the pier and clutched the nearest railing lest he be blown overboard. The rain of spray was drenching his evening clothes as Brown tugged at his coat and strove to pull him toward the hotel.
"Let me cool off," shouted Brainard above the tumult. "I'm going home with you, I tell you, Toodles. I'm going to the Mediterranean with you. I'm going to Italy with you, God bless her! I'm going back where I belong, and the pineapples
