n overtones,
and a family party from the Midlands, badly smitten with shyness, who
did not talk at all. "A resort, of honeymoon couples," said the doctor,
and then rather knowingly: "Temporary honeymoons, I fancy, in one or two
of the cases."

"Decidedly temporary," said Sir Richmond, considering the company--"in
most of the cases anyhow. The two in the corner might be married. You
never know nowadays."

He became reflective....

After lunch and coffee he rowed the doctor up the river towards
Cliveden.

"The last time I was here," he said, returning to the subject, "I was
here on a temporary honeymoon."

The doctor tried to look as though he had not thought that could be
possible.

"I know my Maidenhead fairly well," said Sir Richmond. "Aquatic
activities, such as rowing, punting, messing about with a boat-hook,
tying up, buzzing about in motor launches, fouling other people's boats,
are merely the stage business of the drama. The ruling interests of this
place are love--largely illicit--and persistent drinking.... Don't you
think the bridge charming from here?"

"I shouldn't have thought--drinking," said Dr. Martineau, after he had
done justice to the bridge over his shoulder.

"Yes, the place has a floating population of quiet industrious soakers.
The incurable river man and the river girl end at that."

Dr. Martineau encouraged Sir Richmond by an appreciative silence.

"If we are to explore the secret places of the heart," Sir Richmond went
on, "we shall have to give some attention to this Maidenhead side of
life. It is very material to my case. I have,--as I have said--BEEN
HERE. This place has beauty and charm; these piled-up woods behind which
my Lords Astor and Desborough keep their state, this shining mirror
of the water, brown and green and sky blue, this fringe of reeds and
scented rushes and forget-me-not and lilies, and these perpetually
posing white swans: they make a picture. A little artificial it is true;
one feels the presence of a Conservancy Board, planting the rushes and
industriously nicking the swans; but none the less delightful. And this
setting has appealed to a number of people as an invitation, as, in a
way, a promise. They come here, responsive to that promise of beauty
and happiness. They conceive of themselves here, rowing swiftly and
gracefully, punting beautifully, brandishing boat-hooks with ease and
charm. They look to meet, under pleasant or romantic circumstances,
other