The band played outside to-night--not in the hall--and a woman with a good voice strained by open-air concerts during the past summer was singing a song in which the words "love" and "roses" seemed to come with more frequency and on higher notes than the rest, so that they reached the extremist limits of the promenade, floating above the heads of Caroline and Wilf as they sat extended on canvas chairs watching those who walked slowly up and down. It was the night of the visitor _in excelsis_. Stout, important matrons wearing the dresses they had for afternoon calls at home in the towns moved slowly along in small groups, with a solid man or so in attendance who smoked his pipe or cigar and said little, but that little rather jocular. Girls tripped by, either pale with the heat, or flushed, or protected from extremes of temperature by a heavy layer of powder: and flappers with pert faces and fluffy hair swung gaily along, always with a generous display of fat neatly-stockinged leg. But it was all charming, particularly in the evening light, because there was about it all such an appealing atmosphere of youth and summer. Caroline and Wilf leaned back at their ease in their chairs, making remarks on those who went past. He was tired with the day's work in a stifling office in Flodmouth, and she with her extra household occupations at the Cottage owing to Miss Ethel's indisposition. "Good thing I happen to be only relieving Lillie this week," she said. "If it had been my turn to stop all day, I don't know what they would have done at the Cottage. But Miss Ethel is better now. I had meant to tell them I was leaving--that night she was taken ill, you know." "Well, I think it is a pity you hadn't got it done," said Wilf. "They'll be up to any dodge to keep you now. I know 'em." And he shook his head wisely. "You surely don't imagine Miss Ethel sort of felt I was going to give notice, and so fell down and hurt herself on purpose?" said Caroline, laughing. But Wilf, pallid and exhausted with a burning day in a Flodmouth office--his nerves slightly upset by too many cigarettes--was in no mood to be chaffed. "I never gave a hint at anything so ridiculous," he answered fretfully. "I simply say that in my opinion you are not in your right position there, and if you consult my wishes, you'll make other arrangements as soon as possible. I did tell you so before, I think." "And I meant to do it," said Caroline. "Honour bright, I did." She glanced at him sideways. "I don't care about it any more than you. Only I promised Mr. Wilson I would stop on until Miss Ethel was better."