rough the barrier she tried to put up and she
had to remember: "Men always talk like that, Carrie. Don't you know
that men always talk like that when they want to get over a girl?"

She moved restlessly in her seat, turning to Winnie: "This is a silly
film."

But she had to go on thinking about it. Supposing Aunt Creddle were
right? No, she couldn't be!

The memory of Godfrey's face as he looked up at her on the cliff ledge
after she had refused him came back more vividly than the picture on
the screen. That was real. If she were to doubt him, she must doubt
the sea booming on the sands and the moon in the sky----

But if men did always say that? He might love her. She could not
believe that he felt no real love for her then. But could he be
wanting her love and everything else as well--like the man in the film?

She remembered that at the beginning of the interview he had suggested
their being friends after his marriage. Could it be that he really had
that in his mind all the time? Did he somehow know--though he loved
her so then, and really meant what he said--that he was not going to
mean it twenty-four hours later?

Suddenly she felt an overwhelming desire to ask him these questions.
She must know. She must have an answer. It was all very well to say
they would not meet again. When she said it she meant it most
sincerely; but there must be some sort of settling up before they
parted for the whole of their lives. It could not be cut off short
like that; just a kiss and running away down a dark garden. They must
for once know exactly where they stood before the shutter went up and
they could never truly look into each other's thoughts any more.

She turned to the child, who sat wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked, staring at
the pictures. "I say, Winnie, I think we must be going home now," she
said. "It's getting late."

She spoke gently, with a guilty consciousness of dragging Winnie away
from a rare treat; but her restlessness would not let her sit still
watching these changing, grimacing faces any longer.

Poor Winnie looked a little crestfallen but cheered up under the
promise of chocolates, and a minute or two later they were outside in
the starlit night, tasting the salt freshness of the air.

Caroline halted a moment, looking down, taking no notice of Winnie,
then she said abruptly:

"We'll go by Beech Lane."

"But that's so dark," pleaded Winnie, looking up anxiously, sensitive
as childr