"Don't forget," she reminded me, "that at our last supper at Brighton I begged for a little rest. Only a few weeks afterwards, he sent us here. I am quite certain that nothing ever happened at Greymarshes. If we get into any trouble here, it will simply be because the spring is so disturbing." She looked at me lazily, almost affectionately. Then she looked at Leonard. His hat was tilted over his eyes and his hands were clasped around his knees. There was very little of his good-natured, pudgy face to be seen. "I wonder," she continued, with a little sigh, "why neither of you ever make love to me. I'm very attractive." "The situation," Leonard began, taking his hat off and sitting up---- "Oh, hang the situation!" Rose interrupted irritably. "If you can't make up your minds which of you it is to be, you might toss up or something. Here's spring coming on. I'm twenty-two years old, and I haven't got a young man. You will drive me to answer some of the desperate notes which are showered upon me by lovesick youths from the front row. I had another last night from Arthur. I believe that he really loves me." "I'm afraid Arthur will have to be spanked," I said. Rose made a little grimace. "There is such a thing, Mr. Maurice Lister," she declared, "as playing the watchdog just a little too zealously--especially in the springtime. See who's coming. I think I shall turn round and smile." We both looked along the sands in the direction which she had indicated by her parasol. A tall, weedy young man, dressed with the utmost care in a grey flannel suit, brown shoes and linen spats, a Panama hat and a quaintly impossible tie, came slowly towards us, swinging a stick in his hand. As he drew near, he diffused multitudinous odours. His pimply face was suffused with a deep flow of colour. We realised at once what was going to happen. The young man whom we knew by repute only as Mr. Arthur Dompers, established at the Grange with a tutor and a small company of satellites, had evidently made up his mind to speak to us. He came to a standstill, sidled round to the front of us, and raised his hat. "Good morning! I say, you'll forgive my saying so--what? Awfully jolly show of yours! Ripping!" Now I cannot say that any of us took to this young man, and, considering our Bohemian manner of life, we none of us had a fancy for chance acquaintances. The gentle rebuke which we had meditated, however, died away, first on Rose's lips and then on mine. It became apparent to us that the boy was horribly nervous. "Glad you like it," I rejoined. "So nice of you," Rose murmured. "Quite a crowd from your place last night, wasn't there?" Leonard observed. "That's right," the young man acquiesced. "We all weighed in--had dinner early on purpose. Jolly place you've got here." "Won't you sit down?" Rose invited.