She moved, and the light fell directly on her face. It had the contours and the bloom of a peach, and under her slouch hat her eyes, large and wonderfully wide apart, shone out with candour and young eagerness for life. Yes, youth, youth! That was the keynote of her. That, and the sweetness of honey, coloured like her hair; the kindliness of milk, white as her skin. Mrs. Cartwright, with doom at her heart, looked at this young girl. So did Jack Awdas, who had sprung to his feet and off the wicker chair-arm. The girl frankly returned the glances of the lady sitting back there, and of the boyish English officer who was (as she ingenuously put it to herself) "the loveliest looking young man she'd ever seen." Jack Awdas did not know that he was staring almost rudely.... Mrs. Cartwright knew. She also knew what a kiss had been interrupted by that look at another. And when the bustle of this arrival and of Madame and the _chasseur_ and the "grips" and the Franco-American explanations had died away to the first landing, it was Mrs Cartwright, standing, who spoke. She spoke quite lightly and with a smile on her lips. She came of soldier people. "Dear Jack, there's nothing more to be said. I know I'm right. But _you_ needn't go. I'm going instead. I must get back to my boys for half-term. I shall be off early in the morning, so this is good-bye." "But----" he protested, in a voice that was not quite that of five minutes before. "No. That's all. I hope----No, don't come with me. Good night!" Before he knew, she was gone. CHAPTER XVII DROP-SCENE "There is no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend but he grieveth the less." Bacon. Mrs. Cartwright went up to her room, but she did not pack those bags of hers at once. Instead, she put on her coat, tied a scarf over her head, changed her shoes, and went for a walk. She knew that she must tire herself out. She had thought she was rather tired already from her tussle with the waves that afternoon, but that wasn't enough. She must be more exhausted before she could sleep for a few hours. She would order them to call her very early in the morning, so that she could be packed and off before any of the other visitors had left their rooms. She set out, and she couldn't have told anybody in what direction. A path was soft--probably with pine-needles--beneath her feet. Before her eyes there was a striping of light on darkness; still a moon between the trees.