She was beating her hands together
and quite unconsciously repeating Brett's name over and over in a sick
agony of urgency.
"Brett! Brett! God, let him come in time!... Brett! Brett! Brett!..."
The retreating wave revealed once more the slight girl-figure, spent
and effortless this time, tossing impotently in the churning backwash.
Forrester would be too late! A third wave would batter the life out of
that fragile body. Cara's voice died into a strangled sob of despair.
... And then came the sound of racing footsteps, something passed her like
a flash, and the white spray flew up in a dense cloud as a tall figure
hurled itself headlong into the sea. For an instant Cara could distinguish
nothing but a dark blot and the blur of flying spume as it spattered
against her face. Then, with a shaking cry of utter thankfulness, she saw
Eliot Coventry come striding out from amid the maelstrom of surging waters,
bearing Ann's unconscious form in his arms.
He carried her swiftly beyond reach of the hungry, devouring waves and,
laying her down on the sand, tore off his coat and placed it beneath her
head. At the same moment Forrester reached the shore and raced towards
them, and as Eliot straightened himself it was to meet the other man's eyes
blazing into his--savage, challenging eyes, like those of a tiger robbed
of its prey.
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