They closed once or twice, opened again, blue-green, expressionless.

Looking aloft after a while she tried to comprehend that the sky was still overhead; but it seemed to be a tricky, unsteady, unfamiliar sky, wavering, crawling across space like the wrinkled sea beneath it.

Confused, she turned, peering about; the beach, too, was becoming unstable; and, through the sudden rushing darkness that obscured things, she tried to rise, then dropped full length along the sand.
A few seconds later--or perhaps minutes, or perhaps hours--she found herself seated perfectly conscious, mechanically drying the sea-water from her wet face; while beside her knelt a red-capped figure in wet bathing-dress, both hands brimming with sea-water which ran slowly between the delicate fingers and fell, sparkling.
"Do you feel better ?" asked Shiela gently.
"Yes," she said, perfectly conscious and vaguely surprised.

Presently she looked down at her skirts, groped about, turned, searching with outstretched fingers.

Then her eyes fell on the letter.