boulders, but Siegmund and Helena were too little. They lay ignored and
insignificant, watching through half-closed fingers the diverse caravan
of Day go past. They lay with their latticed fingers over their eyes,
looking out at the sailing of ships across their vision of blue water.

'Now, that one with the greyish sails--' Siegmund was saying.

'Like a housewife of forty going placidly round with the duster--yes?'
interrupted Helena.

'That is a schooner. You see her four sails, and--'

He continued to classify the shipping, until he was interrupted by the
wicked laughter of Helena.

'That is right, I am sure,' he protested.

'I won't contradict you,' she laughed, in a tone which showed him he
knew even less of the classifying of ships than she did.

'So you have lain there amusing yourself at my expense all the time?' he
said, not knowing in the least why she laughed. They turned and looked
at one another, blue eyes smiling and wavering as the beach wavers in
the heat. Then they closed their eyes with sunshine.

Drowsed by the sun, and the white sand, and the foam, their thoughts
slept like butterflies on the flowers of delight. But cold shadows
startled them up.

'The clouds are coming,' he said regretfully.