r was very heavy. It was like
repeating a lesson learned in childhood.

"That's all right," began Gertie again, "but--"

"My dear girl, I shall be annoyed if you go back to all that. Why can't
you let it alone? The point is, What's to happen? I can't go on sponging
on you and the Major."

Gertie flushed under her tan.

"If you ever leave us," she said, "I'll--"

"Well?"

"I'll ... I'll never leave George."

Frank was puzzled for a moment. It seemed a _non sequitur_.

"Do you mean--"

"I've got me eyes," said Gertie emphatically, "and I know what you're
thinking, though you don't say much. And I've been thinking, too."

Frank felt a faint warmth rise in his own heart. "You mean you've been
thinking over what I said the other day?"

Gertie bent lower over her frying-pan and scraped harder than ever.

"Do stop that confounded row one second!" shouted Frank.

The noise stopped abruptly. Gertie glanced up and down again. Then she
began again, more gently.

"That's better," said Frank.... "Well, I hope you have," he went on
paternally. "You're a good girl, Gertie, and you know better. Go on
thinking about it, and tell me when you've made up your mind. When'll
dinner be ready?"

"Half an hour," said Gertie.

"Well, I'll go out for a bit and look round."

He took up the letter carelessly and went out.

(III)

As he passed the window Gertie glanced towards it with the corner of her
eye. Then, frying-pan still in hand, she crept up to the angle and
watched him go down the quay.

A very convenient barrel was set on the extreme edge of the embankment
above the water, with another beside it, and Frank made for this
immediately. She saw him sit on one of the barrels and put the letter,
still unopened, on the top of the other. Then he fumbled in his pockets
a little, and presently a small blue cloud of smoke went upwards like
incense. Gertie watched him for an instant, but he did not move again.
Then she went back to her frying-pan.

Twenty minutes later dinner was almost ready.

Gertie had spread upon the table, with great care, one of the Major's
white pocket-handkerchiefs. He insisted upon those being, not only
retained, but washed occasionally, and Gertie understood something of
his reasons, since in the corner of each was embroidered a monogram, of
which the letters were not "G.T." But she never could make out what they
were.

Upon this tablecloth she had placed on one side a black-handled fork
w