He accepted their shillings gratefully, and when they departed for the links he bowed them on their way.

And as their car turned up Jetty Street, for one instant, he again allowed his eyes to sweep the dull gray ocean.

Brown-sailed fishing-boats were beating in toward Cromer.

On the horizon line a Norwegian tramp was drawing a lengthening scarf of smoke.

Save for these the sea was empty.
By gracious permission of the manageress Carl had obtained an afternoon off, and, changing his coat, he mounted his bicycle and set forth toward Overstrand.