Well, she would not have it to accomplish tonight.
A bare-legged, blue-jerseyed figure was moving in a bent attitude along the slope that overlooked Rufus's cottage and the Spear Point.

The girl stood a moment gazing out over the curving reef as if she had not seen it.

The pool was smooth as a mirror, and reflecting the drifting clouds.
The tide was out.

But, stay! It must be on the turn, for as she stood, there came the deep, tolling note of the bell-buoy.

It sounded like a knell.
As it struck solemnly over the water, the man straightened himself, and in a moment he saw her.
He did not move to meet her, merely stood motionless, nearly knee-deep in the bog-myrtle, and waited for her, the white roses in one great, clenched hand.