For a moment or two he looked at her, watching her. She was a good-looking woman, who seemed older than he, rather pale, but healthy, her face yearning. Her rich auburn hair was heaped in folds on her forehead. She looked apart from him and his world, gazing away to the sea. It irked her husband that she should continue abstracted and in ignorance of him; he pulled poppy fruits and threw them at the window. She started, glanced at him with a wild smile, and looked away again. Then almost immediately she left the window. He went indoors to meet her. She had a fine carriage, very proud, and wore a dress of soft white muslin. “I’ve been waiting long enough,” he said. “For me or for breakfast?” she said lightly. “You know we said nine o’clock. I should have thought you could have slept after the journey.” “You know I’m always up at five, and I couldn’t stop in bed after six. You might as well be in pit as in bed, on a morning like this.” “I shouldn’t have thought the pit would occur to you, here.” She moved about examining the room, looking at the ornaments under glass covers. He, planted on the hearthrug, watched her rather uneasily, and grudgingly indulgent. She shrugged her shoulders at the apartment. “Come,” she said, taking his arm, “let us go into the garden till Mrs Coates brings the tray.” “I hope she’ll be quick,” he said, pulling his moustache. She gave a short laugh, and leaned on his arm as they went. He had lighted a pipe. Mrs Coates entered the room as they went down the steps. The delightful, erect old lady hastened to the window for a good view of her visitors. Her china-blue eyes were bright as she watched the young couple go down the path, he walking in an easy, confident fashion, with his wife, on his arm. The landlady began talking to herself in a soft, Yorkshire accent. “Just of a height they are. She wouldn’t ha’ married a man less than herself in stature, I think, though he’s not her equal otherwise.” Here her granddaughter came in, setting a tray on the table. The girl went to the old woman’s side. “He’s been eating the apples, gran’,” she said. “Has he, my pet? Well, if he’s happy, why not?” Outside, the young, well-favoured man listened with impatience to the chink of the teacups. At last, with a sigh of relief, the couple came in to breakfast. After he had eaten for some time, he rested a moment and said: “Do you think it’s any better place than Bridlington?” “I do,” she said, “infinitely! Besides, I am at home here—it’s not like a strange seaside place to me.” “How long were you here?” “Two years.” He ate reflectively. “I should ha’ thought you’d rather go to a fresh place,” he said at length. She sat very silent, and then, delicately, put out a feeler. “Why?” she said. “Do you think I shan’t enjoy myself?” He laughed comfortably, putting the marmalade thick on his bread. “I hope so,” he said. She again took no notice of him.