"When Rosa Mundi is old, I shall take her place, so that she
may still be remembered."
The words, "Heaven forbid!" were on Courteney's lips. He checked them
sharply, but something of his original grimness returned as he said,
"And now that you are on the other side of the breakwater, what are you
going to do?"
She looked up at him speculatively, and in a moment tossed back the
short golden curls that clustered at her neck. She was sublimely young.
In the eyes of the man, newly awakened, she had the look of one who has
seen life without comprehending it. "I always like to get the other side
of things, don't you?" she said. "But I won't stay with you if you are
bored. I am going right to the end of the rocks to see the tide come
in."
"And be washed away?" suggested Courteney.
"Oh no," she assured him confidently. "That won't happen. I'm not nearly
so young as I look. I only dress like this when I want to enjoy myself.
Rosa Mundi says"--her eyes were suddenly merry--"that I'm not
respectable. Now, don't you think that sounds rather funny?"
"From her--yes," said Courteney.
"You don't like her?" The shrewd curiosity of a child who desires
understanding upon a forbidden subject was in the question.
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