I wouldn't think of taking her away."
Jane was standing now, her eyes blazing, her lips
quivering.
"You mean, Lucy, that you would leave your child
here and spend two months away from her?"
The wheels were crunching the gravel within a
rod of the porch. Max had already lifted his hat.
"But, sister, you don't understand--" The
drag stopped and Max, with uncovered head, sprang
out and extended his hand to Jane.
Before he could offer his salutations Lucy's joyous
tones rang out.
"Just in the nick of time, Max," she cried. "I've
just been telling my dear sister that I'm going to
move over to Beach Haven to-morrow, bag and baggage,
and she is delighted at the news. Isn't it just
like her?"
CHAPTER XVII
BREAKERS AHEAD
The summer-home of Max Feilding, Esq., of Walnut
Hill, and of the beautiful and accomplished
widow of the dead Frenchman was located on a
levelled sand-dune in full view of the sea. Indeed,
from beneath its low-hooded porticos and piazzas
nothing else could be seen except, perhaps, the wide
sky--gray, mottled, or intensely blue, as the weather
permitted--the stretch of white sand shaded from
dry to wet and edged with tufts of yellow grass;
the circling gulls and the tall finger of Barnegat
Light pointing skyward.
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