If he got her outside, surely the soldiers would see her and intervene. She felt his crotch through his jeans. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. He had plugged along, if not happy, at least with sound philosophy.
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