"What is it?" she asked when they had finished a verse. "It must be a Norwegian folk-song. It reminds me of Grieg." Another verse was sung. It began to rain,--warm, summer drops. "You will be wet," Richard said. "Never mind." A third verse followed, and then a new air was started. It rained faster. "Come under the shelter of the wall here," Richard urged, timidly taking her arm. "I think I see an archway." "Yes, yes," she murmured, with sweet acquiescence; and they stood together a long time under the archway in silence, while the Norwegian sailors, heedless of weather, sang song after song. The next morning the sky had cleared again, but there was a mist over the calm sea. They walked idly on the level sands. At first they were almost alone. The mist intensified distances; a group of little children paddling in a foot of water appeared to be miles away. Slowly the mist was scattered by the sun, and the beach became populous with visitors in Sunday attire. In the afternoon they drove to Angmering, Adeline having found no preferable haunt. "You have no train to catch to-night," she said; "what a relief! Shall you start very early to-morrow?" "I'm not particular," he answered. "Why?" "I was thinking that Lottie and I would go up by the same train as you, but perhaps you won't care to be bothered with women and their luggage." "If you really intend to return to-morrow, I'll wire to Curpet not to expect me till after lunch, and we'll go at a reasonable hour." He left her at her lodging as the clock was striking eleven; but instead of making direct for his hotel, he turned aside to the river to have a last look at the "Juliane." Curiously, it began to rain, and he sheltered under the archway where he had stood with Adeline on the previous night. Aboard the "Juliane" there was stir and bustle. He guessed that the ship was about to weigh anchor and drop down with the tide. Just after midnight she slid cautiously away from the quay, to the accompaniment of hoarse calls and the rattling of chains and blocks. CHAPTER XX During the journey to town Adeline would talk of nothing but her intention to taste all the amusements which London had to offer. She asked numberless questions with the persistency of an inquisitive child, while Lottie modestly hid herself behind a copy of "Tit Bits," which had been bought for her. "Now I will read out the names of the plays advertised in the 'Telegraph,'" she said, "and you must tell me what each is like, and whether the actors are good, and the actresses pretty, and things of that kind." Richard entered with zest into the conversation. He was in a boisterous mood, and found her very willing to be diverted. Once, when he used a technical term, she stopped him: "Remember, I have never been to a theatre." On Sunday she had made the same remark several times. It seemed as if she liked to insist on the point.