They went into the town about the time the 6.20 p.m. arrived at Salterne, and sent off their wire. After that the skipper resigned herself to calm enjoyment. The afternoon, since the storm dispersed, had been so beautiful that Mrs. Romilly could hardly have worried so far, and the telegram would secure the rest. Adrian had his hair cut. The necessary feeding was not a matter of ten minutes, but a most delightful meal; finally Crow rejected a suggestion of "The Pictures for about half an hour or so"--nothing would induce her to risk missing that train--and they sat in the station in the warm darkness. It was very quiet, and sparely lighted. She was happy enough, but Adrian was rather regretful about going at all. "I see what we ought to have done," he said, "wired to Mum that we were sleeping on board in the harbour. What an awful pity. I suppose we couldn’t do it now, Crow?" "Can’t send a wire now," answered Christobel. "Pity. That walk from Five Trees to Bell Bay is rather a grind. If we stayed on the yawl we could sail home to-morrow morning." "We can’t stay on the yawl--Mother would be in fits, when we’ve wired we are coming by this train. Addie, don’t have a fleeting mind. Let’s talk about something else." But the train came in from Riversgate--they could see it winding along out of the far hills to the south of the harbour and crossing the bridge like a mechanical toy--they got in, and went over to the end of the carriage from which the wide estuary was visible under the young moon. Such a wonderful sight, with sandhills exposed and a hundred different channels sending tides out to sea. "I wouldn’t live inland if you paid me to," said Adrian firmly. "’And so say all of us’," quoted Crow in an ardent whisper. Then they were silent--looking out. Twenty to twenty-five minutes after that, they drew into the little moorland station, high, fresh, and lonely, under the moon. There were still clouds about, which made the shadows more eerie. It was all beautiful and mysterious as only the far west country can be. The brother and sister heartily agreed that the whole day had been well worth living. "I’m not sure this isn’t best of all," said Crow. Adrian was planning arrangements for fetching the yawl, and they covered the long stretch of white road in quick time; no walking is so delightful as that in moonlight, with all the world to oneself. Owls hooted from the trees, and in a distant copse a nightingale suddenly began his song--more perfect for the space and loneliness. The Romilly pair became silent. Conversation seemed almost irreverent. They were approaching the Folly Ho turn. Suddenly into the quiet broke a monotonous light sound--the tapping of feet on hard ground; someone was running at an even pace. "We’re not the only people alive to-night," said Christobel in a low voice, "I thought we were."