She was, she said. It had been beautiful. He gave her a worried look and took her to the first aid station on the beach to check for narcosis, the bends, and half a dozen other things she didn’t have. Finally they let her go, and she wandered up and down the shore, picking her way between topsy-turvy sun loungers and wrecked sunshades, ducking in and out of beach bars looking for someone to talk to, someone who would understand her sense of dimming joy and tragic separation. In the noise, she had been complete.