One morning when Roland had been put into a very good humour by the public approval of his conduct, he saw John Penelles and Tris Penrose and two other fishers go into the Ship Inn together. They had Lawyer Tremaine with them, and were doubtless met to complete the sale or purchase of some fishing-craft. Roland knew that it would be an affair to occupy two or three hours, and he suddenly resolved to go down the cliff and interview his mother-in-law. It would please Denasia, and he was himself in that reckless mood of self-complacency which delights in testing its influence. Without further consideration he lit a fresh cigar and went down the familiar path. It was full of memories of his wooing of Denas, and he smiled with a soft triumph to them. And the exquisite morning, the thrushes singing to the sun, the fluting of the blackbirds, the south wind swinging the blue-bells, the mystical murmur of the sea--all these things set themselves unconsciously to his overweening self-satisfaction. The door of the Penelles cottage was wide open, and he stood a moment looking into it. The place had an Homeric simplicity and beauty which touched his sense of fitness. On the snow-white hearth there was a handful of red fire, and the bright black hob held the shining kettle. A rug of knitted bits of many-coloured cloths was before it, and on this rug stood John's big cushioned chair. The floor was white as pipeclay could make it; the walls covered with racks of showy crockery; the spotless windows quite shaded with blossoming flowers; and the deal furniture had been scrubbed with oatmeal until it had the colour and the beauty of ivory. Joan sat with her back to the door. She was perfectly still. At her feet there was a pile of nets, and she was mending the broken meshes. When Roland tapped she let them fall and stood upright. She knew him at once. Her fine rosy face turned grey as ashes. She folded her arms across her breast and stood looking at the intruder. For a moment they remained thus--the gay, handsome, fashionably-dressed young man smiling at the tall grave woman in her neat print gown and white linen cap. Roland broke the silence. "I am Roland Tresham," he said pleasantly. "I do know you. What be you come for? Is Denas--where be my child? Oh, man, why don't you say the words, whatever they be?" "I am sorry if I frightened you. I thought you might like to know that Denas was well and happy." Then Joan went back to her nets and sat down without a word. "I was in St. Penfer on business, and I thought you would like to know--might like to know--you see, I was here on business--" He was growing every moment more uncomfortable and embarrassed, for Joan bent busily over her work and her back was to him. "You see, I was here on business. I wanted to see my sister. I thought you would like to know about Denas." She turned suddenly on him and asked: "Where be my child?" "I left Denas in London."