Poppy slept late in the morning, and I got up and went down to the pier, a melancholy place, wet with morning mist and almost deserted. There were rows of beach chairs, and bathing machines and overturned boats littering the beach, and not a soul in sight but a few fishermen. I sat there and thought of Newport on a bright July morning, with children and nurses on the sand, and throngs of people, and white sailboats and nice young men in flannels----I was awfully homesick for a minute. And it came over me, too, that I had no particular business helping the Cause in England, and having keys put down my back, and giving up my gold-topped salts bottle, which was a present from Basil Ward, when all the time the Cause at home was fighting just as grimly and much more politely. Vivian was on the pier, at the very end. He was sitting looking out, with his finger hooked around his cigarette (which is Cambridge fashion, I believe, or may be the King does it) and looking very glum. "Where is she? In jail?" he demanded. "She's asleep, poor thing," I said. He snorted. "Lots of sleep I've had," he said. "Look here, Madge, is she going to take her vacation by locking up Sheriffs all along the route? Because if she is, I'm going back to London." "I think it very likely," I replied, coldly. "You'd better go back anyhow; she'll be murderous if she knows she's followed." He groaned. "I can't leave her alone, can I?" "I'm along." He laughed. It was rude of him. "You!" he said. "Madge, tell me honestly--_where_ was the key?" "She put it down my back." He fairly howled with joy. I hated him. But he calmed before long, and offered me a cigarette as a peace offering. I declined. "You'd better go along," he said. "She may need the--back again. Madge, is there any chance for me with her?" "Well, she likes you, when you are not in the way." "I'd be in the way now, I suppose, if I turned up to-night at--where do you stop?" "At Torquay. Look here, Vivian, I've just thought of something. She's put out about a thing a man said yesterday. She wants an answer. She's got arguments, but what she wants is a retort--about six words and smart. If you could give her one, she'd probably forgive you hanging around, and all that." So I told him about the ten commandments and Poppy knowing she'd get it again and sitting up to worry it out. He said it was easy. He'd have something to break his appearance at Torquay. But it wasn't as easy as it seemed at first. I left him sitting there, looking out to sea, with a notebook on his knee. He called after me that he'd follow us, a few miles behind, but he wouldn't turn up until he had thought of something worth while.