imagination. She knew a great deal of poetry--rather martial poetry--by heart; all of Horatius, for instance, which she said she usually recited to herself in the dentist's chair and from which she gained comfort.
They were walking up the wide steps to the bathing house as she spoke, and she stopped and bent down to examine a boy's bicycle--she was a connoisseur of bicycles.
They came in sight of the beach now--all set out with bright-colored umbrellas like gay poisonous mushrooms. It was the hour when the beach was given over to children.
Pearl was thinking that it looked very pretty, when once again she heard Antonia's clarion voice break out at her elbow.
"Hi, there, you kids! Leave that fort alone! It's mine!"
To be continued...
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