Stephen Morris (35 page)

Tiring of the discussion of ways and means, Dennison turned away and began to walk up the beach to the sand-hills to collect his kit. He had not spoken to Sheila. Once he had glanced at the girl, but she had avoided his eyes. After that he had concentrated on the story of the flight that Morris told.

At the top of the beach he glanced backward. She had left the others and was coming up the beach towards him. Blindly he stooped and fumbled with his flying-suit upon the sand. Then, as the girl drew near, he turned to face her.

‘Good morning,’ he said gently.

The girl faced him steadily, bareheaded against a deep blue sea breaking on the yellow sands. ‘I oughtn’t to have come, of course,’ she said. ‘But I got worried, and I wanted to come and say I was sorry. And then Helen said she’d bring me down here, and I came.’

‘I see,’ said Dennison. He glanced at her, and laughed suddenly. ‘Half a minute,’ he said.

The girl stood gazing at him anxiously.

He raised his head. ‘Before you say any more,’ he said, ‘I want you to think of one thing. It’s never very wise to make a decision in a hurry, or under exceptional circumstances – if you can put it off. This flight has put us all out of step a bit. Suppose we put off discussing it – till next week?’

The girl smiled. ‘But I only heard of this flight a
week ago. And before then I had written to you to – to say that I’d changed my mind, and … I’d come to Hong Kong with you, if you’d have me.’

And after that there was no more to be said.

‘As a matter of fact,’ said Dennison a little later, ‘the Hong Kong scheme is off.’

The girl drew herself up and looked at him in wonder. ‘But, Peter,’ she said, ‘is there anything else? What are we going to do?’

‘I couldn’t very well go to Hong Kong,’ said Dennison. ‘I’ve got to sail
Chrysanthe
, Sir David’s new yacht, at Cowes. I shall have to do that every season, I expect, so of course, I couldn’t go abroad.’ He spoke seriously, but there was a gleam of humour in his eyes.

‘But Peter, dear,’ said the girl. ‘You can’t let that decide – everything … ’

‘Sir David quite saw that, of course,’ said Dennison. ‘As a matter of fact, the same objection holds for any job. I shall have to have a couple of months off in the yachting season, you see. It meant a special arrangement. I’m being absorbed into the legal department of the Fisher Line. It’s rather a good job, I think – I’m to be second-in-command to the old chap who does all their legal business for them now. And it’s the work I’m keen on.’

Down by the flying-boat the discussion drew to a close. Morris stood leaning against the lower wing, one arm round his wife’s shoulders, talking earnestly to Rawdon and Sir David Fisher. Behind them the fisherman was swabbing out his motor-boat, oblivious of his part in history.

Morris made his last point and stood erect by the machine. ‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘Let’s have some breakfast and talk about it afterwards.’

His wife caught his eye. ‘Give them a little longer,’ she said softly.

All four turned and gazed at the two figures sitting together in the sand-hills at the head of the beach.

Rawdon laughed shortly and turned away. ‘God bless my soul!’ he said tersely. ‘
They
don’t want any breakfast.’