Miss Hartley paid no heed. “It is in my boots now,” said the invalid, plaintively; “tight boots, too. Do you know what I was thinking just now when you looked at me in that alarmed, compassionate way?” “Not alarmed,” muttered Miss Hartley. “I was thinking,” pursued Mr. Vyner, in a rapt voice, “I was thinking what a fine nurse you would make. Talking of heart troubles put it in my mind, I suppose. Fancy being down for a month or two with a complaint that didn’t hurt or take one’s appetite away, and having you for a nurse!” “I think that if you are going to talk nonsense—” began Joan, half stopping. “I’m not,” said the other, in alarm, “I’ve quite finished; I have, indeed.” He stole a glance at the prim young figure by his side, and his voice again developed a plaintive note. “If you only knew what it was like,” he continued, “to be mewed up in an office all day, with not a soul to speak to, and the sun shining, perhaps you’d make allowances.” “I saw you down by the harbour this morning,” said the girl. “Harbour?” said the other, pretending to reflect—“this morning?” Joan nodded. “Yes; you were lounging about—in the sunshine—smoking a cigarette. Then you went on to the _Indian Chief_ and stood talking for, oh, quite a long time to Captain Trimblett. Then—” “Yes?” breathed Mr. Vyner, as she paused in sudden confusion. “What did I do next?” Miss Hartley shook her head. “I only saw you for a moment,” she said. Mr. Vyner did not press the matter; he talked instead on other subjects, but there was a tenderness in his voice for which Miss Hartley told herself her own thoughtlessness was largely responsible. She trembled and walked a little faster. Then, with a sense of relief, she saw Captain Trimblett approaching them. His head was bent in thought, and his usual smile was missing as he looked up and saw them. “I wanted to see you,” he said to Joan. “I’m off to London to-morrow.” “To-morrow!” repeated the girl, in surprise. “Twelve-thirty train,” said the captain, looking shrewdly from one to the other. “I’m just off home; there are one or two matters I must attend to before I go, and I wanted to talk to you.” “I will come with you,” said Joan, quickly. “I haven’t seen Mrs. Chinnery for a long time.” She nodded to Mr. Vyner and held out her hand. “Good-by.” “Good-by,” said that gentleman. He shook hands reluctantly, and his amiable features took on a new expression as he glanced at the captain. “Try and cheer him up,” he said, with an air of false concern. “It’s only for a little while, cap’n; you’ll soon be back and—you know the old adage?” “Yes,” said the captain, guardedly. “Although, of course, there are several,” said Mr. Vyner, thoughtfully. “I wonder whether we were thinking of the same one?” “I dare say,” said the other, hastily. “I was thinking of ’Absence makes the heart grow fonder’—of the _Indian Chief_” said the ingenuous Robert. “Was that the one you were thinking of?”