They went along the Staines Road, then by the banks of the Thames past Runnymede, came to Old Windsor, and from there to the White Hart Hotel. She thoroughly enjoyed it; the drive nerved her; she forgot the painful reflections of the previous night. He talked freely. She noticed with satisfaction he seemed attracted by her, looked at her searchingly as though interested. They went on the river and were rowed past the racecourse. It was warm and fine, the flow of the water past the boat soothed her. They had tea at the hotel, then returned to town. "Where to?" he asked when they were nearing Kensington. She gave the name of her flat and they alighted there. "I have been here some time," she said. "I find it comfortable and quiet. Will you come in?" He followed her. He noticed her room was furnished expensively and in excellent taste; there was nothing grand or gaudy about it. "I am alone here, with my maid," she said. "They have an excellent system: all meals are prepared downstairs and sent up; there is a very good chef." "The least possible trouble," he said. "How long have you been here?" "Three years. It suits me; I do not care to be away from London. In my married days I lived in the country, but it bored me to death. Do you like the country?" "Yes, I love it; but then much of my life has been spent in solitude." "You have traveled?" "Yes." "I thought so." "Why?" "Your complexion denotes it. I like it, there is a healthy brown about it." "I have done much hard work in my time," he said. "Mining?" she asked. "Yes, I suppose you would call it that." "Where?" "On Dartmoor," he said. She was so astonished she could not speak. She looked at him with fear in her eyes. "Dartmoor?" she whispered. "I did not know there were mines on Dartmoor." "Oh, yes, there are--copper mines. I was fool enough to believe there was money in them, but I was mistaken; there is copper there, no doubt, but I did not find it," he said. She felt as though a snake fascinated her, that she must ask questions about it. "I have been to Torquay, but I did not go to Dartmoor," she said. "You ought to have done so; it is a wonderful place. I was there a long time. When were you in Torquay?" She told him. "Strange," he said; "I was there at that time." She felt a curious dread, not of him, but of something unknown. "I went to the races--a friend of mine was riding there. He won four events. Lucky, was it not?" "Yes," she said faintly. "Who was he?" "Picton Woodridge. His yacht the _Sea-mew_ was in the bay. I was on it." "You!" she exclaimed, and he saw the fear in her eyes. "Yes, why not? Is there anything strange about it?" he asked, smiling. "He lives at Haverton. He is rich, but he is not quite happy." "Why not, if he has everything he wants?" "He has not everything he wants; no one has, as a matter of fact. It would not be good for us. You have not all you want." "No, I have not; but I get along very well."