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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!