I want to see you as soon as I can about several
important matters. Suppose I run over in the car this morning? Will
you be there? Good! I'll see you later, then."
Robert Morton hung up the receiver and walked meditatively along the
sandy road to the gray cottage. The die was cast. Whatever happened,
it could not be worse than had been the days of suspense and anxiety
that he had endured.
The morning was close and humid, a land breeze wafting across the
fields perfumes of sun-scorched pine and blossoming roses. Scarce a
ripple marred the glittering surface of the bay that stretched like a
sheet of burnished brass as far as one could see. Now and then a faint
zephyr, rising from the wooded slopes, swept down the hill, swirling
into billows of vivid emerald the coarse salt grass that swayed on the
marshes. So still it was that every whisper of the surf lapping the
edge of the bar could be heard; over and over the waters stole up on
the shore, fretted into foam and receded, each wave creeping
rhythmically back into the deep to a song of shifting sand and pebbles.
Pages:
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326