H. Bedford-Jones

“ The speaker leaned over, silent for a moment as the boat passed over a vale of feathery, swaying blue sea violets, interwoven with feather-boa kelp and shells and the flicker of darting fish. But Quentin sat motionless, his mind in a whirl, until the second man took up the thread of conversation. The girl still listened to her shells.
"Does the pitiful 'help-the-blind' stunt if she gets caught, eh?"
"Not by a blame sight! Dresses like a lady, they say—if a guy nabs her, she's made a mistake and that's all 'cept the apologies." ”

“ At present she was vouched for by him—though he was unknown on the islands—and had found shelter at the hotel. If his doubts were well founded, she would remain there until the afternoon boat back to San Pedro, then she would quietly slip off and "beat it."
"All right," decided Quentin, as he swung up the last few yards of Metropole Avenue, passed the tennis courts, and on to the Country Club, "I'll not return until the boat has gone back. It'll be pretty good proof that she's told the truth, if I find her waiting; we'll leave the matter on the knees of the gods until then." ”

“ Since there was no help for it, Quentin beat a retreat in no little consternation. This unexpected turn of affairs left him somewhat up a tree, he reflected. As planned, the fishing expedition was to leave Avalon that night for a point thirty miles down the coast, where three days would be spent fishing. He decided that he would go up to the club later in the afternoon, arrange to meet the other two men when they came down to embark, and trust to luck that Mathews would be back.
"If he isn't," he thought, "I'll have to chuck the fishing trip, that's all. ”