Page 546 - sons-and-lovers

in a golden glitter the sun came up, dribbling fierily over the
waves in little splashes, as if someone had gone along and
the light had spilled from her pail as she walked.
The breakers ran down the shore in long, hoarse strokes.
Tiny seagulls, like specks of spray, wheeled above the line
of surf. Their crying seemed larger than they. Far away the
coast reached out, and melted into the morning, the tus-
socky sandhills seemed to sink to a level with the beach.
Mablethorpe was tiny on their right. They had alone the
space of all this level shore, the sea, and the upcoming sun,
the faint noise of the waters, the sharp crying of the gulls.
They had a warm hollow in the sandhills where the wind
did not come. He stood looking out to sea.
‘It’s very fine,’ he said.
‘Now don’t get sentimental,’ she said.
It irritated her to see him standing gazing at the sea, like
a solitary and poetic person. He laughed. She quickly un-
dressed.
‘There are some fine waves this morning,’ she said tri-
umphantly.
She was a better swimmer than he; he stood idly watch-
ing her.
‘Aren’t you coming?’ she said.
‘In a minute,’ he answered.
She was white and velvet skinned, with heavy shoulders.
A little wind, coming from the sea, blew across her body
and ruffled her hair.
The morning was of a lovely limpid gold colour. Veils of
shadow seemed to be drifting away on the north and the