to watch
how nearly he sometimes let her down. He would have let any other woman
down, but Claire knew him. She counted on his not being exactly where he
ought to be, hovered longer on her return strokes, pushed herself more
swiftly forward to meet him, or retreated to avoid his too impulsive
rushes. Winn was always glad when Maurice, satisfied with his cursory
practice, left her circling alone and unfettered like a sea-gull on a
cliff.

This was the time when he always made up his mind not to join her, and
felt most sure that she didn't care whether he joined her or not.

He had not talked with her alone since their lunch at the Schatz Alp
nearly a week ago. Every one of her hours was full, her eyes danced and
laughed as usual, the secretive bloom of youth hid away from him any
sign of expectation. He did not dream that every day for a week she had
expected and wanted him. She couldn't herself have explained what she
wanted. Only her gaiety had lost its unconsciousness; she was showing
that she didn't mind, she was not, now minding. It seemed so strange
that just when she had felt as if they were real friends he had
mysteriously kept away from her. Perhaps he hadn't meant all the nice
things he had said or all the nicer things he hadn't said at all, but
just looked whenever her eyes met his? They did not meet his now; he
always seemed to be looking at something else. Other men put on her
skates and found her quickest on the rink, and the other men seemed to
Claire like trees walking; they were no longer full of amusing
possibilities. They were in the way. Then one morning Winn, watching her
from a distance noticed that Maurice didn't turn up. Claire actually
looked a forlorn and lonely little figure, and he couldn't make up his
mind not to join her.

He skated slowly up to her.

"Well," he said, "where's Maurice? He oughtn't to be missing a good
skating morning like this?" It suddenly seemed to Claire as if
everything was all right again. Winn was there for her, just as he had
been on the Schatz Alp; his eyes looked the same, and the intentional
bruskness which he put into his voice was quite insufficient to hide its
eagerness.

"Oh," she said, "Major Staines, I didn't mean to tell anybody, but I
shall tell you of course. It's rather sickening, isn't it? Maurice
doesn't want to go in for the competition any more; he says he can't
spare the time."

"What!" cried Winn; "look here, let's sit down and talk about i