She was effectually roused at last by the sound of a clear, strong voice whistling a charming melody. She sat quite still. A conviction that it was Tris Penrose came into her heart. She wondered if he would notice--know--speak to her. Tris saw her figure as quickly as it came within his vision, and as quickly as he saw it he knew who was present. He ceased whistling and cried out cheerily:
She stood up then and held out her hands to him. And she was startled beyond measure by the Tris that met her gaze. Naturally a very handsome man, his beauty was made most attractive by a sailor suit of blue broadcloth. His throat was open to the sea breeze, a blue kerchief tied around it in a sailor's knot. And then her eyes wandered to his sun-browned face, close-curling black hair, and the little blue, gold-trimmed cap set upon the curls. The whole filled her with a pleasant wonder. She made a little time over his splendour, and asked if he was going to the pilchard fishing in such finery. And he took all her hurried, laughing, fluttering remarks with the greatest good-humour. He said, indeed, that he had been told she was home again, and that he wore the dress because he was coming to see her.
Then they sat down, and she told Tris what she desired to do for her father, and Tris entered into the project as enthusiastically as if he was a child. Never before had Tris felt so heart-satisfied. It was such a joy to have Denas beside him; such a joy to know that she was free again; such a joy to share a secret with her. And gradually the effusiveness of their first meeting toned itself down to quiet, restful confidence, and then they rose together and began to walk slowly toward the cottage. For of course Joan was to be consulted, and besides, Tris had a present for her in his pocket.
The westering sun sent level rays of sunshine before them, and they tried involuntarily to step in it as they used to do when they were children. Tris could not help a smile as they did so, and then one of those closely personal conversations began whose initial point is always: "And do you remember?" Tris remembered everything, and especially one Saturday when they ran away together to a little fairy cove and made boats all day long. Yes, every movement of that happy day was in Tris' heart, and he told Denas that the same pebbly shore was still there, and that often he fancied he heard on it the beat of their little pattering, naked feet, and wished that they could have been children upon the shore for ever, and ever, and evermore.