d us to become acquainted."

It was a lie, but he spoke it without hesitation, knowing that it would
reach Clare's ears. The little lady smiled nervously and looked up at
him.

"Ah, Mr. Trojan," she said, "it's very good of you, I'm sure. We are
only too delighted. It's not much gaiety that we can offer you here,
but such as it is----"

She was actually making eyes at him, the preposterous old person. It
was really a little pitiful, with her gorgeous colours, and her
trembling assumption of a coquettish youth that had left her long ago.
Her attempt to storm a difficult position by the worst of all possible
tactics made him extremely sorry for the daughter, who was forced to
look on in silence. His thoughts, indeed, were with the girl--her
splendid hair, her eyes, something wild, almost rebellious, that found
a kindred note in himself; curiously, almost absurdly, they were to a
certain degree allies although they had not spoken. He talked to her a
little and she mentioned the Cove.

"It is a test of your Cornish ancestry," she said--"if you care for it,
I mean. So many people here look on it as a kind of
rubbish-heap--picturesque but untidy--and it is the most beautiful
place in the world."

"I am glad that you feel like that," he said quietly; "it meant a lot
to me as a boy. I have been sorry to find how unpopular it is now; but
I see that it still has its supporters."

"Ah, you must talk to father," she said. "He is always there. We are
a little old-fashioned, I'm afraid."

There was in her voice, in her smile, something that stirred him
strangely. He felt as though he had met her before--a long while ago.
He recognised little characteristics, the way that she pushed back her
hair when she was excited, the beautiful curve of her neck when she
raised her eyes to his, the rise and fall of her bosom--it was all
strangely, individually familiar, as though he had often watched her do
the same things in the same way before, in some other place....

He had forgotten the others--Clare, Robin, the Miss Ponsonbys, Mrs. le
Terry; and when they had all gone, he did not realise that he had in
any way neglected them.

After Miss Bethel had left the room, followed by the preposterous old
mother, he stood at the window watching the lights of the town shining
mistily through the black network of trees in the drive. He must meet
her again.

Clare spoke to him and he turned round. "I'm afraid you have made the