'How do you mean, nature? It's not of any particular _nature_. Nature, indeed! How like a woman! It's just business.' He waited a minute. 'Stockbroking; that's what it is. Yes, it's stockbroking. I want to see a chap who's put me in to a good thing. A perfectly safe thing. No gambling. But one has to see into it, you see. Mitchell wants to see me at once, you see. Do you see? You saw his wire, didn't you? I've explained, haven't I? Aren't you satisfied with my explanation?' '_You_ appear to be--very. But I'm not asking you to tell me any details about the business, whatever it may be.' They arrived at the station, and Bruce gave her what she thought a very queer look. It was a mixture of fear, daring, caution and a sort of bravado. Anxiety was in it, as well as a pleased self-consciousness. 'Tell me, frankly, something I'd like to know, Bruce.' 'Are you getting suspicious of me, Edith? That's not like you. Mind you, it's a great mistake in a woman; women should always trust. Mistrust sometimes drives a man to--to--Oh, anyhow, it's a great mistake.' 'I only want you to tell me something, Bruce. I'll believe you implicitly if you'll answer.... Do you ever see Miss Townsend now?' 'Never, on my honour! I swear it.' He spoke with such genuine good faith that she believed him at once. 'Thanks. I'm glad. And--have you never since--' 'Never seen her, never written to her, never communicated with her since she left! Don't know where she is and don't care. Now you do believe me?' he asked, with all the earnestness and energy of truth. 'Absolutely. Forgive me for asking.' 'Oh, that's all right.' He was relieved, and smiled. 'All right, Bruce dear. I'm glad. It would have worried me.' 'Now go, Edith. Don't bother to wait till I get in. I'll write to you--I'll write to you soon.' She still lingered, seeing something odd in his manner. 'Give my love to my mother,' he said, looking away. 'I say--' Edith.' 'Yes, dear?' 'Oh, nothing.' She waited on till the train started. His manner was alternately peevish and kind, but altogether odd. Her last glimpse was a rather pale smile from Bruce as he waved his hand and then turned to his paper.... 'Well, what _does_ it matter so long as he _has_ gone!' exclaimed Aylmer impatiently, when she expressed her wonder at Bruce's going. The tide was low, and they went for a long walk over the hard shining sand, followed by Archie picking up wonderful shells and slipping on the green seaweed. Everything seemed fresh, lovely. She herself was as fresh as the sea breeze, and Aylmer seemed to her as strong as the sea. (Privately, Edith thought him irresistible in country clothes.) Edith had everything here to make her happy, including Bruce's mother, who relieved her of the children when she wanted rest and in whose eyes she was perfection.