“Oh! we’ll have a splendid time,” he said. “You must get to know Maradick, Alice. He’s splendid. He doesn’t talk much, but he’s so awfully genuine.” She got up. “You don’t describe him very well, Tony; all the same, genuine people are the most awful bores, you never know where you are. Well, forgive my little bit of temper. We ought to get back. They’ll be wondering where we are.” But as they strolled back she was very quiet. She had found out what she wanted to know. There _was_ some one else. She had watched his face as he looked at the sea; of course that accounted for the change. Who was she? Some fisher-girl in the town, perhaps some girl at a shop. Well, she would be no rival to anyone. She wouldn’t fight over Tony’s body; she had her pride. It was going to be a hard time for her; it would be better for her to go away, but that would be difficult. People would talk; she had better see it out. “It’s simply too dreadfully hot in the sun,” Tony was conscious of Mrs. Lawrence saying as he joined them. He took it as a metaphor that she was sitting with her back to the sea and her eyes fixed upon the chicken. He wanted to scream, “Look at the gorse, you fool!” but instead he took a plate and flung himself down beside Mrs. Maradick. She nodded at him gaily. “You naughty boy! You left us to unpack; you don’t deserve to have anything.” “Indeed, Mrs. Maradick, I stayed until I was in the way. Too many cooks, you know.” He watched everyone, and detected an air of cheerfulness that had certainly not been there before. Perhaps it was the lunch; at any rate he was hungry. He talked, waving a piece of bread and butter. “You people don’t deserve anything. You ought to go and see a view before eating; grace before meat. Alice and I have done our duty and shall now proceed to enjoy our food twice as much as the rest of you.” “Well, I think it’s too bad, that gorse,” said Mrs. Maradick, with a little pout and a flash of the eye towards Rupert Gale. “It puts all one’s colours out.” She gave her mauve a self-satisfied pat. “Oh! Emmy dear! You look perfectly sweet!” ecstatically from Mrs. Lawrence. Suddenly Mr. Lester spoke, leaning forward and looking at Mrs. Maradick very seriously. “Have you thought, Mrs. Maradick, whether perhaps you don’t put the gorse out?” “Oh! Mr. Lester! How cruel! Poor little me! Now, Mr. Gale, do stand up for me.” Rupert looked at the gorse with a languid air. “It simply don’t stand a chance,” he said. “Talking about gorse,” began Mrs. Lawrence. She was always telling long stories about whose success she was in great doubt. This doubt she imparted to her audience, with the result that her stories always failed. This one failed completely, but nobody seemed to mind. The highest spirits prevailed, and everyone was on the best of terms with everyone else. Lady Gale was delighted. She had thought that it would go off all right, but not quite so well as this.