“Our friend Hamel,” Mr. Fentolin intervened, “woos other and sterner muses. He fights nature in distant countries, spans her gorges with iron bridges, stems the fury of her rivers, and carries to the boundary of the world that little twin line of metal which brings men like ants to the work-heaps of the universe. My dear Florence,” he added, suddenly turning to the woman at his other side, “for the moment I had forgotten. You have not met our guest yet. Hamel, this is my sister-in-law, Mrs. Seymour Fentolin.” She held out her hand to him, unnaturally thin and white, covered with jewels. Again he saw something in her eyes which stirred him vaguely. “It is so nice that you are able to spend a few days with us, Mr. Hamel,” she said quietly. “I am sorry that I have been too indisposed to make your acquaintance earlier.” “And,” Mr. Fentolin continued, “you must know my young friend here, too. Mr. Hamel--Lord Saxthorpe.” The latter shook hands heartily with the young man. “I knew your father quite well,” he announced. “Queer thing, he used to hang out for months at a time at that little shanty on the beach there. Hardest work in the world to get him away. He came over to dine with us once or twice, but we saw scarcely anything of him. I hope his son will not prove so obdurate.” “You are very kind,” Hamel murmured. “Mr. Hamel came into these parts to claim his father’s property,” Mr. Fentolin said. “However, I have persuaded him to spend a day or two up here before he transforms himself into a misanthrope. What of his golf, Esther, eh?” “Mr. Hamel plays very well, indeed,” the girl replied. “Your niece was too good for me,” Hamel confessed. Mr. Fentolin smiled. “The politeness of this younger generation,” he remarked, “keeps the truth sometimes hidden from us. I perceive that I shall not be told who won. Lady Saxthorpe, you are fortunate indeed in the morning you have chosen for your visit. There is no sun in the world like an April sun, and no corner of the earth where it shines with such effect as here. Look steadily to the eastward of that second dike and you will see the pink light upon the sands, which baffled every one until our friend Hamel came and caught it on his canvas.” “I do see it,” Lady Saxthorpe murmured. “What eyes you have, Mr. Fentolin! What perception for colour!”