They picnicked together gaily. It seemed to Wolfenden that chicken and tongue had never tasted so well before, or claret, at three shillings the bottle, so full and delicious. They cleared everything up, and then sat and talked over the cigarette which she had insisted upon. But although he tried more than once, he could not lead the conversation into any serious channel--she would not talk of her past, she distinctly avoided the future. Once, when he had made a deliberate effort to gain some knowledge as to her earlier surroundings, she reproved him with a silence so marked that he hastened to talk of something else. "Your maid," he said, "is greatly distressed about something. She sent a telegram off at Peterborough. I hope that your uncle will not make himself unpleasant because of my travelling with you." She smiled at him quite undisturbed. "Poor Céleste," she said. "Your presence here has upset her terribly. Mr. Sabin has some rather strange notions about me, and I am quite sure that he would rather have sent me down in a special train than have had this happen. You need not look so serious about it." "It is only on your account," he assured her. "Then you need not look serious at all," she continued. "I am not under my uncle's jurisdiction. In fact, I am quite an independent person." "I am delighted to hear it," he said heartily. "I should imagine that Mr. Sabin would not be at all a pleasant person to be on bad terms with." She smiled thoughtfully. "There are a good many people," she said, "who would agree with you. There are a great many people in the world who have cause to regret having offended him. Let us talk of something else. I believe that I can see the sea!" They were indeed at Cromer. He found a carriage for her, and collected her belongings. He was almost amused at her absolute indolence in the midst of the bustle of arrival. She was evidently unused to doing the slightest thing for herself. He took the address which she gave to him, and repeated it to the driver. Then he asked the question which had been trembling many times upon his lips. "May I come and see you?" She had evidently been considering the matter, for she answered him at once and deliberately. "I should like you to," she said; "but if for any reason it did not suit my uncle to have you come, it would not be pleasant for either of us. He is going to play golf on the Deringham links. You will be certain to see him there, and you must be guided by his manner towards you." "And if he is still--as he was in London--must this be goodbye, then?" he asked earnestly. She looked at him with a faint colour in her cheeks and a softer light in her proud, clear eyes. "Well," she said, "goodbye would be the last word which could be spoken between us. But, _n'importe_, we shall see."