Energy books

Miss Guile was sitting
in her chair, neatly encased in a mummy-like sheath of grey that
covered her slim body to the waist.
She was quite alone in her nook, and reading. Evidently the book
interested her, for she failed to look up when he clumsily slid into
his chair and threw the rug over his legs--dreadfully long,
uninteresting legs, he thought, as he stretched them out and found
that his feet protruded like a pair of white obelisks.
Naturally he looked seaward, but in his mind's eye he saw her as he
had seen her not more than ten minutes before: a slim, tall girl in a
smart buff coat, with a limp white hat drawn down over her hair by
means of a bright green veil; he had had a glimpse of staunch tan
walking-shoes. He found himself wondering how he had missed her in
the turn about the deck, and how she could have ensconced herself so
snugly during his brief evacuation of the spot. Suddenly it occurred
to him that she had returned to the chair only after discovering that
his was vacant. It wasn't a very gratifying conclusion.


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