pipe or
cigar and said little, but that little rather jocular. Girls tripped
by, either pale with the heat, or flushed, or protected from extremes
of temperature by a heavy layer of powder: and flappers with pert faces
and fluffy hair swung gaily along, always with a generous display of
fat neatly-stockinged leg. But it was all charming, particularly in
the evening light, because there was about it all such an appealing
atmosphere of youth and summer.

Caroline and Wilf leaned back at their ease in their chairs, making
remarks on those who went past. He was tired with the day's work in a
stifling office in Flodmouth, and she with her extra household
occupations at the Cottage owing to Miss Ethel's indisposition.

"Good thing I happen to be only relieving Lillie this week," she said.
"If it had been my turn to stop all day, I don't know what they would
have done at the Cottage. But Miss Ethel is better now. I had meant
to tell them I was leaving--that night she was taken ill, you know."

"Well, I think it is a pity you hadn't got it done," said Wilf.
"They'll be up to any dodge to keep you now. I know 'em." And he
shook his head wisely.

"You surely don't imagine Miss Ethel sort of felt I was going to give
notice, and so fell down and hurt herself on purpose?" said Caroline,
laughing.

But Wilf, pallid and exhausted with a burning day in a Flodmouth
office--his nerves slightly upset by too many cigarettes--was in no
mood to be chaffed.

"I never gave a hint at anything so ridiculous," he answered fretfully.
"I simply say that in my opinion you are not in your right position
there, and if you consult my wishes, you'll make other arrangements as
soon as possible. I did tell you so before, I think."

"And I meant to do it," said Caroline. "Honour bright, I did." She
glanced at him sideways. "I don't care about it any more than you.
Only I promised Mr. Wilson I would stop on until Miss Ethel was better."

"Wilson!" said Wilf. "What's he to do with it, I should like to know.
He doesn't seem to me to bother much about the old girls as a rule."
Then certain vague memories of that dance in the promenade hall which
had not been entirely obliterated by Wilson's skilful treatment came
back with renewed vividness. "I see what it is; he's after you
himself. So long as you stop at the Cottage, he knows where to put his
hand on you. You needn't think I was such an owl as not to see he was
taken with you that ni