HE men look poisonous, but the girl is rather pretty," said Stephen Dallas.
"'Poisonous' is scarcely the word," answered Sir James—"unless you apply it to the big Jew in the same sense that it might refer to the hind leg of a mule. The girl is Austrian, I fancy, with perhaps a dash of Italian. She would be rather a beauty—when you got used to her."
"She does not look to me as if you would ever get used to her."
"So much the better. That is worth far more than beauty."
The Englishman let his big frame sink back upon one elbow, stretched his long legs on the hot sand, and looked off to sea. Dallas lit a cigarette and glanced curiously toward the trio sitting on the beach at a few yards' distance.
"The stones on that big Jew's hands give me a vertigo," said he, "and his accent suggests a toucan with a cold. What beastly language are they talking?"
"I don't know. It seems to be all spits and sputters, with now and then a bark."
Sir James stopped spinning his monocle around his finger, to screw it into his eye and survey the trio. Under the fixity of his British stare, all three turned with the same impulse and looked at the two young men. Then with equal unity of action all three scowled; the girl with a sudden intensity that brought a swarthy flush to her clear skin, the Jew with a diabolical raising of the outer ends of his black, bushy eyebrows; the third member of the party, a thickset, sulky-looking young man, whose personality suggested an overfed black cat, muttered something which could not have been amiable.
"Better not stare at her, James," said Dallas. "If she were to run over here and bite you, you'd certainly go mad."
"I shall risk it," said Sir James, "to find out if she's pretty." He stared placidly for a moment, then blinked out the monocle and turned to his friend. "You are quite right, old chap; she is."
"I am beginning to change my mind," said Dallas. "I don't think that I like yellow eyes and blue hair. The color scheme should be reversed. Now she's angry and going off to sulk. She gets up like a cat or a puma—all part of the same swing. Gad, she's got a figure! Now, don't stare her off the beach until I've looked! My word, but you English have beastly manners!"
The girl had risen, and was standing, beautifully poised, looking at the sea over the heads of her companions. She said a few words, then moved off toward the bathhouses.
"She's going to bathe," said Sir James. "Believe I'll have a dip myself. Coming in?"
"No, thanks. Too late in the season. I haven't thawed out yet from yesterday's swim, and I've got to run the car this afternoon."
The Englishman rose to his feet and strode off toward the bathhouses. It was late in September, and the little resort was almost deserted. Dallas and his friend had dropped in en tour on the motor car belonging to the former.
In a few moments Sir James came stalking down the beach, an attractive masculine combination of fresh, athletic skin, long, clean muscles, and yellow hair, his very blue eyes like lapis lazuli against his brick-red complexion. The two friends were of markedly different type, as Dallas was of medium height, slender, wiry, of a high, nervous tension, and with the face of a very handsome and thoroughbred woman. His eyes were a clear gray, with lashes very long and black. No one had ever seen him thrown out of poise.
Sir James stretched his naked limbs luxuriously upon the hot sand and looked with cheerful expectation toward the bathhouses.
"Why don't you loll out your tongue and prick up your ears and wag your tail, James?" snapped Dallas irritably. "Can't you decently cloak your emotions? And I must say you have plenty of cheek to calmly go in swimming with that girl."
"The Channel is free to all, and why is a woman made pretty if not to attract the eyes of men? Ah!"
Dallas looked around and saw the girl coming down the beach. She was enveloped in a white peignoir and followed by an exceedingly pretty and smart-looking maid. Her blue-black hair was tied up in a yellow handkerchief, and her feet were bare and beautifully shaped. As she passed her two companions, the younger man followed her with his eyes. The Jew was writing or making some calculations in a notebook and did not look up. The girl threw a quick glance toward Sir James, which was observed by her friend, who scowled.
"Jealous brute, the cubby-faced beggar," drawled Sir James. "Did you see that look? How he'd like to slide a knife into me for presuming to tub in the same ocean with the beauty! Oh, I say, old chap, look at her! Isn't she stunning?"
"She makes the sea look quite dingy," Dallas admitted.