1912. Illustrated. The book begins: The Poet lay out on the sands
with head on elbow, attentive to the sea; the girl's shadow fell
over him softly from behind. For awhile he did not raise his eyes,
having already said: No, thank you, to a photographer with stained
fingers, and a girl tugging a great basket of pears. He studied,
not without amusement, the irresolute shadow cast diagonally across
him; noted its sex, divined the favor difficult of formulation, and
smiled at the silent combat between timidity and inertness. Once,
indeed, he deemed the conflict terminated in defeat, for the shadow
shortened, and he was making ready in mind to turn on elbow after
its withdrawal to see with what manner of shade his immobility had
been doing battle, when he was apostrophized with a trepid Please!
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