Tony’s eyes, straining towards the hill, suddenly saw her; she was alone. When he saw her his heart began to beat so furiously that for a moment he could not move. Then he sprang to his feet. He must not be too sure. Perhaps Miss Minns was late. He watched her turn down the path and come towards him. She was looking very cool and collected and smiling at him as she crossed the sand. “Isn’t it a lovely day?” she said, shaking hands. “I’m not late, am I?” “No, I was rather early;” and then, suddenly, “Is Miss Minns coming?” “Oh, no,” Janet laughed, “it was far too hot. She is sleeping with all the curtains drawn and the doors and windows shut. Only I’m not to be late. Oh, dear! What fun! Where’s the boat?” The excitement of hearing that she really was alone was very nearly too much for Tony. He wanted to shout. “Oh, I say, I’m so glad. No, I don’t mean to be rude really; I think Miss Minns awfully decent, simply ripping” (this, I am afraid, due to general pleasure rather than strict veracity), “but it would have put a bit of a stopper on the talking, wouldn’t it? and you know there are simply tons of things that I want to talk about. The boat’s round here, round the corner over these rocks. I thought we’d row to Mullin’s Cave, have tea, and come back.” They moved across the sand. Punch had woke at the sound of voices and now was staring in front of him. He recognised both of them. “The couple of babies,” he said, and he sighed. And at that precise moment some one else came down the path. It was Alice du Cane. She carried a pink parasol. Her figure lay for a moment on the surface of the pool. She was looking very pretty, but she was very unhappy. They had asked her to go out with them, but she had refused and had pleaded a headache. And then she had hated the gloom and silence of her room. She knew what it was that she wanted, although she refused to admit it to herself. She pretended that she wanted the sea, the view, the air; and so she went out. She told herself a hundred times a day that she must go away, must leave the place and start afresh somewhere else. That was what she wanted; another place and she would soon forget. And then there would come fierce self-reproach and miserable contempt. She, Alice du Cane, who had prided herself on her self-control? The kind of girl who could quote Henley with satisfaction, “Captain of her soul?” At the turn of the road she saw Punch and Toby; then across the white sand of the cove two figures. He said good-day, and she smiled at him. Then for a moment she stopped. It was Tony, she could hear his laugh; he gave the girl his hand to cross the rocks. “A beautiful day, isn’t it?” she said to Punch, and passed down the road. * * * * *