Chapter EightCold-Blooded Peeping Tom
Sunshine poured in through the big window, bathing the four-poster in brightness and warmth. Sybil sat up and stretched her arms and cried exuberantly, “Oh, darling, what a wonderful morning!”
“Looks all right from here,” said Tim.
Sybil jumped out of bed and leaned across the window sill. “It looks all right from everywhere. The sea is positively dancing. Can’t be the same one as last night.”
It was, certainly, a gorgeous expanse of blue that lay outside the window. Gay little breakers tumbled out of its edges and chased each other up the white beach. The land, too, seemed almost to glisten in the golden October haze. The dunes were rolling patterns of dark greens and russets against silver. Even the deserted pier, the boardwalk, and the Ferris wh
