The road narrowed into an ill-defined pathway and climbed abruptly on to the top of the sea-wall. A long arm of the great shining estuary lay stretched at her feet, and dotted about it were scores of mud-banks overgrown with reeds and sea-lavender. The grasses rose high as her knees, and she pushed through them and against the wind till her cheeks were flushed with exertion. At the mouth of the creek the estuary rolled infinitely in either direction, and miles and miles of brown-black mud were hissing in the sunlight. “Glorious!” she cried, and flung back her head proudly to meet the wind that swept the corner of the creek. She turned to the right and walked on swiftly. Behind her, looking quite near, but really a good distance away, the village of Barhanger slept drowsily in the afternoon heat: ahead the sea-wall swelled and rolled into great meaningless curves. Not a human being besides herself occupied the landscape. The mud hissed and cracked, and the grasshoppers chattered and the wind shook the long grasses into waving tumult. And over on the mudbanks the sea-gulls gathered and rose and called shrilly, and swooped down again to rest.... At one point the land rose slightly inland from the sea-wall, and perched on the crest of the low hill there stood an old-fashioned red-bricked house with a litter of sheds and stabling around it. Something told her that this was “Seahill.” A pathway wound upwards through the long meadow-grass: the pale green streak over the darker green told her that this was a method of approach used sometimes, but not frequently. And there were ditches to cross--ditches banked with mud, which at high tide must have been brimming with salt water.... § 2 She found her way into a sort of courtyard formed by the back of the house and surrounding outbuildings. And there, throwing food to some chickens, was Helen! “Cathie!” Helen’s voice was full of glad welcome. Helen had grown a fine woman, somewhat stout perhaps, but upright and fine-looking. She kissed Catherine affectionately, and in her quiet way made a great fuss over her. “How did you know we were here?” she asked, as she led Catherine into the house by way of the kitchen. “Quite by chance,” replied Catherine. “I just happened to hear somebody mention it--somebody in the musical line.” “Ah--my husband knows so many people, doesn’t he? And how about your arm? Of course we heard all about that, you know----” “Oh, that’s getting better again slowly. When did you come back from America?” “America?” Helen’s face showed a blank. “We never went to America. Who told you that?” Catherine flushed a little. “I don’t remember,” she replied nonchalantly. “It must have been a wrong idea I picked up from somebody.” They chatted on for some time and then Helen said: