'Ah, my dear! Listen, Cecily, and I will tell you of our first meeting. It was in the Gare de Lyon, when we--Motey and I--were on our way to Pol les Thermes. I lost my purse, and he came forward, offered to lend me what I needed. Should I'--Penelope's voice altered, became curiously introspective, questioning--'should I have taken money from a stranger?' And then as Cecily looked at her, amazed, 'I tell you that from the moment our eyes met we _knew_ one another in a more real sense than many lovers do after years of communion. My unhappiness the last few days has come from his absence, from the knowledge, too, that we are both to be tormented, as I am now being tormented--by you.' And, as Cecily made a gesture of protest, 'Yes, my dear, by you! Why, he has also been attacked by old Mr. Gumberg, of all people in the world!' Penelope laughed nervously. She took the girl by the arm, and silently they retraced their footsteps through the quiet house--the silence broken at intervals by Cecily's long sighing sobs. Some moments later, Wantley, going up to bed with uneasy mind, for he had heard the sound of Cecily's distress, met his cousin face to face. A white cloak concealed her figure, and a black silk hood her resplendent hair. They looked at one another for a moment. Then very deliberately he spread out his arms, barring the way. 'You cannot, shall not go down to the Beach Room!' he whispered. 'I must, and shall!' she said. 'You do not understand, I must see him--you can come and wait for me if you like.' But Wantley was merciless. He looked at her till her eyes fell before his--till she turned and slowly went up before him, back into her room. CHAPTER XVII 'O mort, vieux capitaine, il est temps, levons l'ancre. Le pays nous ennuie, O mort, apparaillons.' BAUDELAIRE. 'J'ai vécu: c'est à dire j'ai travaillé, j'ai aimé, j'ai souffert.' _Old French Epitaph._ I The next morning Cecily Wake and her aunt left Monk's Eype. Strange, unhappy morning! during which Mrs. Robinson alone preserved her usual indifferent, haughty serenity of manner, though she also, when her face was in repose, looked weary and sad. Wantley had found Penelope and her two guests, all three cloaked and hatted, sitting at the pretty breakfast-table laden with early September fruit and flowers. His half-suggestion that he should drive the travellers to the distant junction where they were to catch the fast train to town was at once negatived by Penelope. 'I am going with them,' she said shortly, 'and I shall have business at Burcombe which will keep me till the afternoon.'