It was one of those still, hushed days when the sea and the sky seem to melt into one another, and it is long before the moisture page 125 dries on the leaves and grasses. One of those days when the sea smells strong and there are gulls standing in a row on the sand. The smoke from our wood fire hung in the air and the smoke of my pipe mingled with it. I caught myself staring at nothing. I felt dull and angry. I couldn't get over the ridiculous affair. You see, my amour propre was wounded.