The first time Scott saw the girl`s face, he knew that he could fall in love with her. Every day around three o`clock she gathered driftwood that had been washed up on the lonely beach from the wrecks of coastal tankers. The torpedoes which sank them were never heard, nor were the U-boats ever seen; but suddenly on an occasional morning an oil slick would make the ocean an iridescent gray,and a little later the broken pieces of wood came drifting in.