"I want to get away out of this." He had asked her where she wanted to go. "Anywhere--London." He had asked her whether she would go with him. "I would go with any one," she had said. Afterwards she added: "But you won't take me." "Why not?" he had asked. "Because I'm not in love with you." "You may be--yet." "I'd be anything to get away," she had replied. On a lovely evening he went down to see her, determined that this time he would give himself some definite answer. Just before he turned down to the river he passed Samuel Hogg. That large and smiling gentleman, a fat cigar between his lips, was sauntering, with a friend, on his way to Murdock's billiard tables. "Evenin', Mr. Brandon." "Good evening, Hogg." "Lovely weather." "Lovely." The shadows, faintly pink on the rise of the hill, engulfed his fat body. Falk wondered as he had before now done many times, How much does he know? What's he thinking? What's he want?...The river, at high tide, very gently lapped the side of the old wall. Its colour to-night was pure crystal green, the banks and the hills smoky grey behind it. Tiny pink clouds ran in little fleets across the sky, chasing one another in and out between the streamers of smoke that rose from the tranquil chimneys. Seatown was at rest this evening, scarcely a sound came from the old houses; the birds could be heard calling from the meadows beyond the river. The pink clouds faded into a rosy shadow, then that in its turn gave way to a sky faintly green and pointed with stars. Grey mist enveloped the meadows and the river, and the birds cried no longer. There was a smell of onions and rank seaweed in the air. Falk's love-story pursued at first its usual realistic course. She was there near the waterfall waiting for him; they had very little to say to one another. She was depressed to-night, and he fancied that she had been crying. She was not so attractive to him in such a mood. He liked her best when she was intolerant, scornful, aloof. To-night, although she showed no signs of caring for him, she surrendered herself absolutely. He could do what he liked with her. But he did not want to do anything with her. She leaned over the Seatown wall looking desolately in front of her. At last she turned round to him and asked him what she had asked him before: "What do you come after me for?" "I don't know," he said. "It isn't because you love me." "I don't know." "_I_ know--there's no mistakin' it when it's there. I've lain awake a lot o' nights wondering what you're after. You must have your reasons. You take a deal o' trouble." Then she put her hand on his. It was the first time that she had ever, of her own accord, touched him. "I'm gettin' to like you," she said. "Seein' so much of you, I suppose. You're only a boy when all's said. And then, somehow or another, men don't go after me. You're the only one that ever has. They say I'm stuck up... Oh, man, but I'm unhappy here at home!"