o
cry before him.

The slender sign of emotion touched him, since it was not disfiguring.

"How long have you been starving yourself?" he asked more gently.

"I've not been starving myself. I've got a headache."

He poured out some wine for her.

"You must either eat _or_ drink."

"I don't want any."

"Nonsense."

"I--I can't. I feel sick."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Need you mention it?"

"I wouldn't if you hadn't teased me so."

"I beg your pardon."

She began playing with some salted almonds.

"My _dear_ girl, I wouldn't eat those things if I were you."

"I'm not eating them." She pushed the dish from her. "I'm afraid," said
she, "it isn't a very nice dinner."

He was looking at the _entree_ with interest and a slight suspicion.

"What is this?"

"Curried chicken."

"Oh." He helped himself fastidiously to curried chicken, tasted it with
delicate deliberation, and left it on his plate.

"You are wise," said he. "There is a certain crude, unsatisfying
simplicity about this repast."

"Didn't I tell you?"

"You did."

"You see now why I said you'd better go to the Metropole?"

"I do indeed."

An admirable joint of mutton, cheese, coffee and a liqueur effaced the
painful impression made by the _entree_. By nine o'clock Marston
declared himself inured to the hardships of the Cliff Hotel.

"How long can you stay?" she asked. The question had been burning in her
for two hours.

"Well, over the week end, I think."

Her heart, that had fluttered like a bird, sank, as a bird sinks in
terror with wings tight shut.

"Have you got to go up to town to-morrow?"

"I have, worse luck. How do the trains go from this godforsaken place?"

"About every two hours. What sort of train do you want? An early one?"

"Rather. Got to be at Whitehall by twelve."

"Will the nine-fifteen do?"

"Yes; that's all right."

The wings of her heart loosened. It rose light, as if air, not blood,
flowed from its chambers.

The Lucys were never by any chance down before nine. Robert would not
meet him.

He sat down in the chair opposite her, with his eyes fixed on her as she
leaned back in the corner of the sofa. He settled himself in comfort,
crossing his legs and thrusting out one foot, defined under a delicate
silk sock, in an attitude that was almost contemptuous of Kitty's
presence.

Kitty's face was innocent of any perception of these shades. He drew the
long breath of ease and smiled at her again, a