She took the former route.

On the sands were a few scattered people, and some children subdued to Sunday decorum.

The tide was rising.

She went down to the nearest tract of hard sand, and stood there for a long time, a soft western breeze playing upon her face.
If Barfoot were here he would now be coming out to look for her.

From a distance he might not recognize her figure, clad as she was in a costume such as he had never seen her wearing.