I saw it all happen from the
cliff." She shuddered a little at the recollection.
"And if one of those waves _didn't_ knock me down," retorted Ann, "I should
have the most glorious dip imaginable. Honestly, Cara"--coaxingly--"I
wouldn't do more than just dash in and out again."
"Well, ask Robin what he thinks first," begged Cara.
Ann shook her head.
"I'd much rather ask him after!" she answered whimsically, "In fact, I'm
going to sneak into the water before he and Tony finish their respective
toilettes."
Without more ado she vanished into the tent which she usually shared with
Cara, and in a very short space of time reappeared equipped for the water,
the tassel of her jaunty little bathing-cap fluttering defiantly in the
wind. Slipping out of her _peignoir_, she let it fall to the ground and
emerged a slender, naiad-like figure in her green bathing-suit. She ran,
white-footed, to the edge of the water and danced into the creaming foam of
a receding wave, while Cara watched her with inward misgivings. Even from
where she sat she could see how strong was the undertow--each wave as it
retreated dragging back with it both sand and pebbles, and even quite
large stones, in a swirling seaward rush against the pull of which it was
difficult to maintain a footing.
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