The longing to do something to please her godmother and make her proud of her was the first impulse that thrilled her, but as she began to search her brain for a plot, the joy of the work itself made her forget everything else, even the passing of time.

She was amazed when Lloyd called to her that they were going down to lunch.

She had sat the entire morning wrapped in her steamer-rug, looking out across the water with far-seeing eyes.

As the blue waves rose and fell, her thoughts had risen and swayed to their rhythmic motion, and begun to shape themselves into rhyme.

Line after line was taking form, and she wished impatiently that Lloyd had not called her.