Moreover, his was the sort of physique that never showed the results of the hardships it was put under. He had been under a severe physical and mental strain for a year now, yet his face and eyes were as clear and free of wrinkles as a baby's. There was no man quite like Dudley. She tossed her paper into the corner of the divan, sprang up and flung herself into his arms and kissed him anew.
"Well, sweetheart—that's something like," he laughed as he released her. She kept hold of his hand as they walked down the path together leading to the little pier. It was near the end of the lazy August afternoon. The Sound was like glass and the water at high tide lapped against the pier with a little plopping sound. A tramp steamer was making slowly for New York along the horizon. Closer by a slim yacht had lowered its sails for lack of wind and was making noisy use of the auxiliary motor. She sat on the bench at the end of the pier and watched him walk out upon the springboard and, balancing himself an instant on his toes, launch into a graceful dive. He came up damp and smiling.
"That clears the cobwebs away!" he called to her as he hoisted himself up the ladder and onto the pier. "Let's buy a place like this. We can come into New York and live at a hotel
