At length Carley came out on the edge of the bluff with the gray expanse of sea beneath her, and a long wandering shore line, ragged with wreckage or driftwood.

The surge of water rolled in--a long, low, white, creeping line that softly roared on the beach and dragged the pebbles gratingly back.

There was neither boat nor living creature in sight.
Carley felt the scene ease a clutching hand within her breast.

Here was loneliness and solitude vastly different from that of Oak Creek Canyon, yet it held the same intangible power to soothe.

The swish of the surf, the moan of the wind in the evergreens, were voices that called to her.