Doug had not behaved as though the shock had left him broken and stunned and in agony. He had seemed wildly excited, certainly, and his eyes, whenever they met Christine’s, were glowing with ... “Oh, I don’t know,” Christine cried aloud. But such eloquence was intoxicating to remember, afterwards, alone in one’s room.... And he had said, “Plenty of time tomorrow”; and when she had asked innocently: “To fetch her back?” he shouted “_No_, by God”.... And Aunt Lavvy’s smile from her to him had been odd and wise and just the least little bit triumphant. “We must keep the child out of this as much as possible,” Chris had overheard. And Doug’s reply, “Thank God you were here!” And then--and this was the inexplicable part of it all--the next morning Ursula had returned. The girl in the room knit her brows in utter perplexity. She supposed that Louis had already jilted her: “But she didn’t _look_ jilted. She looked rather specially beautiful!” Perhaps Gladys Willoughby might be able to clear up the mystery. Only, somehow, Chris did not want to discuss with Gladys any part of her stay at Grey Stone. Doug and Ursula had talked alone together. And then Doug had come out to her, where she disconsolately crouched, hugging her knees, on the rocks which overhung the purple pools--she named them by the colour of the seaweed. He was very white under his tan. At least, his skin was as bronzed as usual, of course, “but his expression was as though his face were white,” Chris explained to the moon, with a little wriggle of impatience. Doug had been brief and stern, and quite unlike his usual boyish merry self. Unlike last night, too. He had said: “This is good-bye--in a way, brave little girl. Though I dare say I shall go on seeing as much of you as before. But I’d hoped---- Never mind that. It’s over. Chris, a decent chap has first of all got to stand by his wife when she’s ... down. My poor Teddy--I never dreamt she cared for me as much....” He halted abruptly. “You understand? If you don’t--you will one day. Or forget. So much the better. I want you to be happy. And, oh my God, I could have made you happy, on some South Sea Island, warm white sand sloping down to the lagoon....” “It didn’t sound so _frightfully_ different from Polpinnock Cove,” reflected Christine. “But then he says he’s no good at words.” A small black cloud wobbled jerkily across the sun, blotting it out, just at the moment when he bent and kissed her. His farewell kiss. And Christine knew that for her and for him the brightness of life was over. True, Aunt Lavvy had been a perfect darling, and had said that Christine must come as her guest to the Laburnums for a really jolly home sort of Christmas. Aunt Lavvy was wonderful; for though she must know that no jollity could really cheer Chris after her tragedy, yet it was sweet of her to try and give her something to look forward to.