“There’s nothing like the sea. Now your skin knows that. Now it’s going to miss it, always,” he promises.

She considers the sea to be her bank.

She was alone and still, gazing out to sea; and when she felt his presence and the worship of his eyes her eyes turned to him in quiet sufferance of his gaze, without shame or wantonness. Long, long she suffered his gaze and then quietly withdrew her eyes from his and bent them towards the stream, gently stirring the water with her foot hither and