The sun sank into the sea like a great
fiery ball, and the darkness crept on. Presently the moon rose, shining
over the sea in a broad spreading pathway of silver, that looked like a
gleaming fairy track across the water to the far horizon, where a distant
lighthouse glinted at intervals like a fiery eye. The waiting seemed
interminable. Romola, who felt the cold most, had a little private weep.
"I've always been crazy on stories of shipwrecks and desert islands,"
said Fay, "but when you go through it yourself somehow it seems to take
the edge off the romance. I don't want any more to be a Robinson Crusoe
girl! I'd rather stay warm with pussie by the fire."
"If we'd had a box of matches with us we might have lighted a fire!"
sighed Beata. "Why _didn't_ we bring some?"
"Why didn't we look at the tide and get home in decent time? It's no good
crying over spilt milk!" grunted Merle rather crossly.
After that they all subsided into silence for a while. There was no sound
except the monotonous lap of the waves.
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