She felt injured, for her mother had sent her away, and there was no one to talk to her, and she did not care to think any more, lest the questions she had decided should again seem open and doubtful. She went into the hotel and walked down the corridor. He might be in the reading-room. She walked quickly, because she was a little ashamed of looking for him when she felt that he should be looking for her. Suddenly she stopped, for she heard him whistling somewhere. Whistling was his solitary accomplishment, and he did it very well. There was no mistaking the shakes and runs, and pretty bird-like cadences. She listened, but she bit her lip. He was light-hearted, at all events, she thought. The sound came nearer, and Brook suddenly appeared in the corridor, his hat on the back of his head, his hands in his pockets. As he caught sight of Clare the shrill tune ceased, and one hand removed the hat. "I've been looking for you everywhere, for the last two hours," he cried as he came along. "Good morning," he said as he reached her. "I was just going back to the terrace in despair." "It sounded more as though you were whistling for me," answered Clare, with a laugh, for she was instantly happy, and pacified, and peaceful. "Well--not exactly!" he answered. "But I did hope that you would hear me and know that I was about--wishing you would come." "I always come out in the morning," she replied with sudden demureness. "Indeed--I wondered where you were. Let us go out, shall we?" "We might go for a walk," suggested Brook. "It is too late." "Just a little walk--down to the town and across the bridge to Atrani, and back. Couldn't we?" "Oh, we could, of course. Very well--I've got a hat on, haven't I? All right. Come along!" "My people are coming to-day," said Brook, as they passed through the door. "I've just had a telegram." "To-day!" exclaimed Clare in surprise, and somewhat disturbed. "Yes, you know I have been expecting them at any moment. I fancy they have been knocking about, you know--seeing Paestum and all that. They are such queer people. They always want to see everything--as though it mattered!" "There are only the two? Mr. and Mrs. Johnstone?" "Yes--that's all." Brook laughed a little as though she had said something amusing. "What are you laughing at?" asked Clare, naturally enough. "Oh, nothing. It's ridiculous--but it sounded funny--unfamiliar, I mean. My father has fallen a victim to knighthood, that's all. The affliction came upon him some time ago, and his name is Adam--of all the names in the world." "It was the first," observed Clare reassuringly. "It doesn't sound badly either--Sir Adam. I beg his pardon for calling him 'Mr.'" She laughed in her turn.