"Well, I must say thank you for bringing me down," said Melisande, turning to Raoul.

"But you must not go yet!" said the boy, making it sound like a command.

"Oh, but I have to get back. I work here. I came out to take a message, and it is going to take me longer to get home round by the shore as I intended. So I must say goodbye."

"Let us walk with Mademoiselle," said Raoul.

"Let us ask first if she will allow us to do so."

"I should be delighted," said Melisande.

"/shall not be tired," said the boy. "I have had my afternoon sleep."

They walked over the rocks to the patches of sand.

"I hope we shall be able to meet again some time," said the man. "Gould you visit us, I wonder?"

The boy's darting attention had been caught by the living creatures in a rock pool and he stooped to examine them.

"I am only a companion here; you understand that?"

"I too am a companion of sorts."

"The little boy explained."

"He is delicate," said the man quietly. "He is clever and imaginative and full of high spirits, but bodily weak. I am afraid he has

been rather spoiled because of this . . . and because of other things. It is my task to look after him. I gather that you—a poor young lady —are companion to a rich woman. I—a poor man—am companion to a rich little boy."

"He said you were his uncle."

"The relationship is not so close as that. He thinks of me as his uncle. I am really only a second cousin. You see, you and I are in similar positions. I look after him. I teach him. I guard his health. That is my task."

"It must be very pleasant."

"I am fond of him, though at times things are a little difficult. As you have gathered he has been a little spoiled; but at heart he is the best little fellow in the world. Tell me, Mademoiselle, do you expect to stay here for a long time?"

"I don't know. I came here not very long ago as a companion to Miss Trevenning. Trevenning is the name of the house. Perhaps you know it. She is to be married soon . . . after that ... I am not sure."

"And when will she be married?"

"On Christmas Day."

"That is some weeks ahead!"

"Why yes."

"I am glad. We must meet during that time. Compatriots in a foreign land must be friends."

The boy had come up. He was animated as he discussed the creatures he had been studying in the pool. His face was slightly pink and he was breathless; the knees of his knicker-bockers were damp.

The man said: "But you have got wet. We must go back at once."

"/ do not wish to go back. / wish to stay and talk with Mademoiselle."

"But you must go back at once. You must change your clothes. Why, Mrs. Clark would be angry if you stayed out in wet clothes."

The boy's face was stubborn. He said: "It is not for Mrs. Clark to do anything but what / wish her to."

The man turned to Melisande as though he had not heard the boy's remark. "Mrs. Clark is our housekeeper," he explained. "A wonderful person. We are very fond of Mrs. Clark."

"All the same," said the boy, "she may not say when I have to go in and when I may stay out."

"Come," said the man, "I am sure Mademoiselle St. Martin will forgive us if we hurry away."

"Indeed I will, and I must hurry myself," said Melisande. "I must say goodbye . . . quickly. Goodbye."

"Au revoir!" said the man. "We shall be on the beach to-morrow."

"If it is possible I may see you then."

She did not look at the boy's sullen face. She felt a sudden pity for the man who was poor and in charge of the spoilt rich little boy. She felt sorry for all those who were poor and must pander to the rich.

"Thank you," she said to Raoul, "for showing me the way down."

His face brightened. He seemed to have recovered from his sullen-ness. "Au revoir, Mademoiselle. / shall look for you to-morrow."

"Then goodbye. Au revoir. 9 *

She hurried on, making her way rapidly until she came to Plaidy beach, where she left the shore and scrambled up the steep path away from the sea.

She heard a laugh and her name was being called.

She recognized Fermor's voice.

"Who was the friend?" he called, sauntering towards her.

"Friend?"

"I'll tell you right away. I saw the encounter. I heard you were going to the Pennifields and came to meet you. I was at the top of the cliffs and saw you with your friends."

She felt that mingling of pleasure and apprehension which being alone with him could not fail to bring.

He had come very close. "You look as though you think I'm one of the gorgons and about to turn you to stone."

She stepped backwards and said quickly: "It is so strange that they should be French, and that I should have met them like that."

"How did it happen?"

"I was going down the cliff and found it rather difficult. The little boy came out of a cave in which he was playing bandits. He helped me down."

"And took you to Papa?"

"It is not his father—a second cousin."

"You've quickly become acquainted with the family tree. You enjoyed the company of the second cousin."

"You have very good eyes."

"My eyes are as those of a hawk . . . where you are concerned."

"You make me feel like a field mouse waiting for the swooping. You should not have such ideas. I am not to be seized and carried off by a hawk. Now I must hurry back to the house. I am late."

"You spent too much time with your new friends, little field mouse. Perhaps I should say shrew mouse. You are becoming shrewish."

"It is good that you think so. Field mice are poor pretty things; but shrew mice are not so pretty. Perhaps they are not so well liked by hawks."

"They are even more popular. And did you know that the best sort of hawks are noted for their patience?"

"Are you still thinking of that offer you made me?"

"I have never ceased to think of it."

"What . . . even now . . . with your wedding day fixed!"

"It is a thing apart from weddings."

"You have made that very clear to me. I wonder if you have explained to Caroline also?"

"You must not be a silly little shrew mouse. You must be grownup. Of course Caroline knows nothing of it."

"What if I told her? If you ever try to see me alone again I will tell her."

"What!" he said lightly. "Blackmail?"

"You are the wickedest person I have ever met in the whole of my life. I did not know anyone could be so wicked."

"Then it is time you learned. You could reform me, you know. Now, there is a task for you. If you will love me—if you admit you love me, for of course you love me—you will see how charming I am . . . how good, how tender, how devoted."

"I wish to hurry back."

"Do you imagine I cannot keep pace with you?"

"I would rather be alone."

"But I would rather be with you."

"Do you never do what others want ? Is it always what you want ?"

"Well, what about yourself? Are you doing what others want? Now if you were as unselfish as you would like me to be, you would say: 'Well, I know I shouldn't, but because he wants me so much I must please him. That would be unselfish, and I am so good, so kind—in fact such a little martyr, that I must sacrifice myself since my own desires count for nothing.' "