There must be a reason for it. Perhaps he had a rival,
surely that must be the cause. Some enemy had done this thing. But who?
At this moment a woman's shadow fell athwart him.
"Oh, have you come back?" he cried, springing to his feet.
"If you mean Beatrice," answered a voice--it was Elizabeth's--"she went
down to the beach ten minutes ago. I happened to be on the cliff, and I
saw her."
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Granger," he said faintly. "I did not see
who it was."
Elizabeth sat down upon the rock where her sister had sat, and, seeing
the little holes in the breach, began indolently to clear them of the
sand which Beatrice had swept over them with her foot. This was no
difficult matter, for the holes were deeply dug, and it was easy to
trace their position. Presently they were nearly all clear--that is, the
letters were legible.
"You have had a talk with Beatrice, Mr. Davies?"
"Yes," he answered apathetically.
Elizabeth paused. Then she took her bull by the horns.
"Are you going to marry Beatrice, Mr. Davies?" she asked.
"I don't know," he answered slowly and without surprise.
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