"No"--his voice was decided--"my wife shan't work--at least not anywhere but in our home. You won't mind playing at love in a cottage for a bit, will you? I shall get on now I've something to work for. Oh, my dear, thank God I've enough for the cottage! When will you marry me? We've nothing to wait for, no relations to consult, no settlements to draw up. All that's mine is thine, lassie." "And all that's mine--Oh! Stephen!" For, with a scattering of shingle, a man dropped from the sea-wall two yards from them. The situation admitted of no disguise, for Miss Rainham's head was on Mr Dornington's shoulder. They sprang up. "Why, Stephen!" echoed Andrew, "this--this is good of you! You remember Rosamund? We have just found out that----" But Rosamund had turned, and was walking quickly away over the sand. Stephen filled a pipe and lighted it before he said: "You've made good use of your time, old man. I congratulate you." His tone was cold. "There is no reason why I should not make good use of my time," Dornington answered, and his tone had caught the chill of the other's. "None whatever. You have secured the prize, and I congratulate you. Whether it's fair to the girl is another question." In moments of agitation a man instinctively feels for his pipe. It was now Dornington's turn to fill and light. "Of course it's your own affair," said Guillemot, chafing at the silence, "but I think you might have given the heiress a chance. However, it's each for himself, I suppose, and----" "Heiress?" "Yes, the heiress--the Millionairess, if you prefer it. I've been looking into her affairs: it _is_ just about a million." "Rather cheap chaff, isn't it?" "It's a very lucky thing for you," said Stephen savagely. "Perhaps I ought not to grudge it to you. But I must say, Dornington--I see we look at the thing differently--but I must say, I shouldn't have cared to grab at such luck myself." Dornington had thrust his hands into his pockets, and stood looking at his friend. "I see," he said slowly. "And her fortune is really so much? I didn't think it had been so much as that. Yes. Well, Guillemot, it's no good making a row about it; I don't want to quarrel with my best friend. Go along to my place, will you? Or stay: come and let me introduce you to Miss Grant, and you can walk up with her; she'll show you where I live. I'm going for a bit of a walk." Five minutes later Stephen, in response to Rosamund's beckoning hand at the window, was following Miss Grant up the narrow flagged path leading to the cottage which Rosamund had taken. And ten minutes later Andrew Dornington was striding along the road to the station with a Gladstone bag in his hands. Stephen lunched at the cottage. The girls served the lunch themselves; they had no hired service in the little cottage. Rosamund exerted herself to talk gaily.