"_They_ had nothing to lament about; _they_ had no dancing to do," added Dorothea. And the three white faces glared suddenly and sullenly at their astonished companion. "I am shocked," began Isabella. "Shocked yourself," said Rose. "You are a busybody," said Dorothea. "And a gormandizer," added Hildegarde. "And a _Worm_!" said Rose, with decision. "We have decided not to pretend any more before _you_, Worm! Dance yourself till your legs drop off, and see how you like it." The three girls had weak soft voices; they possessed no other tones; the strong words they used, therefore, were all the more startling because so gently, almost sighingly, spoken. In the landau there had been silence. Mrs. Ash, after respecting her son's sombre mood for more than an hour, at last spoke: "I guess you don't care very much about those triflin' temples, after all, do you, John? And it's going to be very long. Supposing we turn back?" She wore her India shawl and a Paris bonnet; she was sitting without touching the cushions of the carriage behind her. She had looked neither at the mountains nor at the sea; most of the time her eyes had rested on the blue cloth of the empty seat opposite. Occasionally, however, they had followed the two figures on horseback, and it was after these figures had passed them a second time, pushing on ahead in order to get a free space of road for a gallop, that she had offered her suggestion. "Go back? Not for ten thousand dollars--not for ten thousand devils!" said John Ash. "What a lazy girl you are, marmer!" And he became gay and talkative. His mother responded to his gayety as well as she could: she laughed when he did. Her laugh was eager. It was almost obsequious. By-and-by the three temples loomed into view, standing in all their beauty on the barren waste, majestic, uninjured, extraordinary. Their rows of fluted columns, their brilliant tawny hues, their perfect Doric architecture, made the loneliness surrounding them even more lonely, made the sound of the sea breaking near by on the lifeless shore a melancholy dirge. When the party reached the great colonnades there were exclamations; there was even declamation, Mrs. Preston having been fitted by nature for that. Freemantle, Gates, and Beckett had come rushing forward to meet their arriving friends. In reality, however, it was Griff whom they had rushed to meet. Griff to their minds was the only important person present, even though the unimportant included Pauline. "Hallo, Griff, old fellow! how are you?" "Couldn't you stay, Griff? We've got a tent for you."