The magnificent woman was to be waiting for him in the lounge of the Royal York Hotel at a quarter to four. She was coming in to Brighton by the Rottingdean omnibus, which function, unless the driver changes his mind, occurs once in every two or three hours. He, being under the necessity of telephoning to London on urgent business, had hired a bicycle and ridden in. Despite the accident to this prehistoric machine, he arrived at the Royal York half a minute before the Rottingdean omnibus passed through the Old Steine and set down the magnificent woman his wife. The sight of her stepping off the omnibus really did thrill him. They entered the hotel together, and, accustomed though the Royal York is to the reception of magnificent women, Olive made a sensation therein. As for him, he could not help feeling just as though he had eloped with her. He could not help fancying that all the brilliant company in the lounge was murmuring under the strains of the band: "That johnny there has certainly eloped with that splendid creature!" "Ed," she asked, fixing her dark eyes upon him, "is anything the matter?" They were having tea at a little Moorish table in the huge bay window of the lounge. "No," he said. This was the first lie of his career as a husband. But truly he could not bring himself to give her the awful shock of telling her that the Vaillacs were close at hand, that their secret was discovered, and that their peace and security depended entirely upon the discretion of little Mimi and upon their not meeting other Vaillacs. "Then it's having that puncture that has upset you," his wife insisted. You see her feelings towards him were so passionate that she could not leave him alone. She was utterly preoccupied by him. "No," he said guiltily. "I'm afraid you don't very much care for this place," she went on, because she knew now that he was not telling her the truth, and that something, indeed, was the matter. "On the contrary," he replied, "I was informed that the finest tea and the most perfect toast in Brighton were to be had in this lounge, and upon my soul I feel as if I could keep on having tea here for ever and ever amen!" He was trying to be gay, but not very successfully. "I don't mean just here," she said. "I mean all this south coast." "Well--" he began judicially. "Oh! Ed!" she implored him. "_Do_ say you don't like it!" "Why!" he exclaimed. "Don't _you_?" She shook her head. "I much prefer the north," she remarked. "Well," he said, "let's go. Say Scarborough." "You're joking," she murmured. "You adore this south coast." "Never!" he asserted positively. "Well, darling," she said, "if you hadn't said first that you didn't care for it, of course I shouldn't have breathed a word--" "Let's go to-morrow," he suggested. "Yes." Her eyes shone. "First train! We should have to leave Rottingdean at six o'clock a.m."