The same people were sitting near him on the beach--the same, and yet not quite the same.

He found himself noticing a person whom he had not noticed before--a young lady, who was seated in a low portable chair, some dozen yards off, with her eyes bent upon a book.
Her head was in shade; her large parasol made, indeed, an awning for her whole person, which in this way, in the quiet attitude of perusal, seemed to abstract itself from the glare and murmur of the beach.

The clear shadow of her umbrella--it was lined with blue--was deep upon her face; but it was not deep enough to prevent Bernard from recognizing a profile that he knew.

He suddenly sat upright, with an intensely quickened vision.

Was he dreaming still, or had he waked?
In a moment he felt that he was acutely awake; he heard her, across the interval, turn the page of her book.