riend. Women had not usually treated him in that way, so far. But
the fact remained, that she had got possession of his thoughts, and made
him think about his actions when she was present. It took a good deal to
disturb Brook Johnstone's young sleep, but he did not sleep well that
night.

As for Clare, when she was alone, she regretted that she had not just
nodded kindly to him, and nothing more, when she had said good-night.
She knew perfectly well that he expected something of the sort, and
that it would have been natural, and quite harmless, without any
possibility of consequence. She consoled herself by repeating that she
had done quite right, as the vision of Lady Fan rose distinctly before
her in a flood of memory's moonlight. Then it struck her, as the vision
faded, that her position was a very odd one. Personally, she liked the
man. Impersonally, she hated and despised him. At least she believed
that she did, and that she should, for the sake of all women. To her, as
she had known him, he was brave, kind, gentle in manner and speech,
boyishly frank. As she had seen him that once, she had thought him
heartless, cowardly, and cynical. She could not reconcile the two, and
therefore, in her thoughts, she unconsciously divided him into two
individualities--her Mr. Johnstone and Lady Fan's Brook. There was very
little resemblance between them. Oddly enough, she felt a sort of pang
for him, that he could ever have been the other man whom she had first
seen. She was getting into a very complicated frame of mind.

They met in the morning and exchanged greetings with unusual coldness.
Brook asked whether she were tired; she said that she had done nothing
to tire her, as though she resented the question; he said nothing in
answer, and they both looked at the sea and thought it extremely dull.
Presently Johnstone went off for a walk alone, and Clare buried herself
in a book for the morning. She did not wish to think, because her
thoughts were so very contradictory. It was easier to try and follow
some one else's ideas. She found that almost worse than thinking, but,
being very tenacious, she stuck to it and tried to read.

At the midday meal they exchanged commonplaces, and neither looked at
the other. Just as they left the dining-room a heavy thunderstorm broke
overhead with a deluge of rain. Clare said that the thunder made her
head ache, and she disappeared on pretence of lying down. Mrs. Bowring
went to write letters,