"You did not mean a word of what you said that afternoon? Not one word?" She spoke very slowly and distinctly. He was silent still, pacing up and down before her. Suddenly, without a word, she turned from him and walked quickly away, towards the hotel. He started and stood still, looking after her--then he also made a step. "Fan!" he called, in a tone she could hear, but she went on. "Mrs. Crosby!" he called again. She stopped, turned, and waited. It was clear that Lady Fan was a nickname, Clare thought. "Well?" she asked. Clare clasped her hands together in her excitement, watching and listening, and holding her breath. "Don't go like that!" exclaimed Brook, going forward and holding out one hand. "Do you want me?" asked the lady in white, very gently, almost tenderly. Clare did not understand how any woman could have so little pride, but she pitied the little lady from her heart. Brook went on till he came up with Lady Fan, who did not make a step to meet him. But just as he reached her she put out her hand to take his. Clare thought he was relenting, but she was mistaken. His voice came back to her clear and distinct, and it had a very gentle ring in it. "Fan, dear," he said, "we have been very fond of each other in our careless way. But we have not loved each other. We may have thought that we did, for a moment, now and then. I shall always be fond of you, just in that way. I'll do anything for you. But I won't marry you, if you get a divorce. It would be utter folly. If I ever said I would, in so many words--well, I'm ashamed of it. You'll forgive me some day. One says things--sometimes--that one means for a minute, and then, afterwards, one doesn't mean them. But I mean what I am saying now." He dropped her hand, and stood looking at her, and waiting for her to speak. Her face, as Clare saw it, from a distance now, looked whiter than ever. After an instant she turned from him with a quick movement, but not towards the hotel. She walked slowly towards the stone parapet of the platform. As she went, Clare again saw her raise her handkerchief and press it to her lips, but she did not bend her head. She went and leaned on her elbows on the parapet, and her hands pulled nervously at the handkerchief as she looked down at the calm sea far below. Brook followed her slowly, but just as he was near, she, hearing his footsteps, turned and leaned back against the low wall. "Give me a cigarette," she said in a hard voice. "I'm nervous--and I've got to face those people in a moment."