Harry and Sidney rode together, and Harry found a horse for Jane and taught her to ride. Lady Avalon had a car at Royd and sometimes they motored over to Poldaven, where everything was now ready for the reception of a family of distinction. But Lady Avalon had gone back to London, and Sidney stayed on at Royd. There was no talk of her going away. Jane could not be always with them. She had been let off afternoon lessons, by special request, but had to occupy herself with them in the mornings. One hot morning Harry and Sidney motored over to Poldaven Castle. It was an old stone house, not very big, which stood on a boldly jutting cliff with the sea on three sides of it. There was generally some wind hereabouts, and there was a strong fresh wind this morning, though among the woods of Royd it was close and still. They went down to a little sheltered garden below the house. It had been partly hollowed out of the rock, and was partly rock-strewn grass and gorse and fern tamed into some semblance of ordered ground, but not too much to take from the charm of its wildness. Steps cut in the rock led down to it from above, and steps had been made from it to the sea, which lay fifty or sixty feet below. They sat on a stone bench overlooking the heaving emerald mass of the sea, and the waves breaking in a high tide against the cliffs and the huge scattered rocks that littered the shore. They were very good friends now, these two. It was Jane who had brought them together, for she greatly admired both of them, and would not be content until they admired one another. So they laughed at her and affected a wondering awe at each other’s perfections when they were in her presence; and when they were alone together they sometimes kept up the game, to prevent themselves falling into sadness over their private troubles. They were both a little sad now, as they sat on the sun-warmed rock and looked out on the surge of the waves. Nature was so bright and fresh and happy, and seemed to be inviting a mood to respond to her own. She could put on this air of perpetual laughing youthfulness, though age-old and subject to moods very different. It seemed ungracious not to laugh and be happy with her. "It’s lovely here," Sidney said. "If only things would go right! You’re the most perfect person in the world, Harry. I ought to be quite happy being here with you, but I want somebody else. I’m wanting him rather badly just at present." "Well, you’re everything you ought to be, but I want somebody else too," he said. He rose impulsively and leant against the wall of the little terrace with one arm resting on it, and looked down at her. "I’ve thought I’d tell you for some time," he said. "I want to tell somebody. I can’t tell Jane; she’s too young. But you’re in the same boat as I am; you’ll understand. And we’re friends too, aren’t we?—always have been."