She liked to be left to go in her own way, please.

And that way was to sit down at the edge of the water, her legs straight, her knees pressed together, and to make vague motions with her arms as if she expected to be wafted out to sea.

But when a bigger wave than usual, an old whiskery one, came lolloping along in her direction, she scrambled to her feet with a face of horror and flew up the beach again.
"Here, mother, keep those for me, will you ?" Two rings and a thin gold chain were dropped into Mrs Fairfield's lap.
"Yes, dear.

But aren't you going to bathe here ?" "No-o," Beryl drawled.

She sounded vague.