Far away the coast reached out, and melted into the morning, the tussocky 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.