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Show -279- fortable, even a little warm in their heavy clothing. Only a few automobiles were on the highway, and these xrere mostly farmers' pickup trucks driven by young people. As they entered the outskirts of Stinson Beach, the streets were deserted and many of the houses seemed to have been closed up for the winter. The only movement, the blinking off and on of a small rectangular neon sign before the cafe. The Professor was not sure he remembered which street to turn down to reach the public beach, and he made one false turn before finding it. He had forgotten that they could not, as they had done in France, drive right onto the beach. They were forced to halt before a barricade of logs at the end of the street. He turned the car's engine off and looked at his wife. "I suppose," he said, "this is as far as we can go. It's too cold to walk out." "Is it?" she asked. "I don't know. We might try walking down to the water." The beach was not entirely deserted. An older couple was walking across it, he with a metal detecting device that he swept over the sand, she following with a small shovel in one hand. Beyond them, the waves rolled in in white swells to break and dissolve as they reached shore. "Those people are walking on the beach," his wife said. "Yes, but see how they bundled up." It was true. The man wore a heavy, padded jacket and |