“I am so glad to meet you!” cried Barney. “Why, the very sight of you makes this dull old Eastbourne smile like a rose, don’t you know. I haven’t had a soul to speak to for ages, and I began to fear I should lose the use of language. I give you my word, it’s the truth! I do think--that is, I did, until I saw you--that Eastbourne is the dullest spot on earth.” “Then why did you come here?” asked the girl. “Oh, now, I say, Miss Sartwell, that’s rather too bad! It is, I assure you. You know I said in my letter I came solely for the pleasure of seeing you.” “So you did. I had forgotten.” “Yes; and you never even answered my note, Miss Sartwell. I call that rather hard, don’t you know.” “You see, Mr Hope, we are not allowed to write letters from the school; that is one of the strictest rules.” “And are you so afraid of breaking a rule as all that? When I was at school the delight of being there was the breaking of all rules--and of most other things as well. I thought perhaps you would not mind breaking a rule for once, even if only out of pity for a friend stranded on this inhospitable coast.” Edna blushed when he spoke of the breaking of rules; then she lifted her honest eyes to his and said: “I am afraid I pay too little attention to the rules after all my pretence of regard for them. I am breaking a rule in being here now; but I was so anxious to see a newspaper that I stole out to buy one. That is why I am here, and I should not stand talking to you, but must go back at once.” “But I say, Miss Sartwell,” protested Barney, “if you break a rule merely to buy a paper, surely you will break another, or keep on fracturing the same one, when you know how much pleasure it will give me to take you for a little drive.” “Oh, I couldn’t think of such a thing, Mr. Hope--I couldn’t, indeed, and you must not ask me! I wanted the paper to see if there was anything more about the fire. I should never have known about it had my father not sent me a short telegram that gave no particulars. I suppose he did not have time to write.” “What fire?” “The fire at the works.” “Bless me! Has there been a fire?” “Didn’t you know? There has been a terrible fire; the east wing is destroyed, and two men have lost their lives--two of the workmen. There would have been a frightful loss of life had it not been for one of the men who is dead. It is supposed, so the papers say, that in trying to save the life of the other he lost his own.”