undulation, a yielding of her whole body to the
rhythm of her feet. She had reached the far end of the lawn as Lucy
neared her, and he looked for her to turn and face him.

She did not turn.

The lawn at this end was bounded by a gravel walk. The walk was fenced
by a low stone wall built on the edge of the Cliff. Mrs. Tailleur paused
there and seated herself sideways on the wall. Her face was turned from
Lucy, and he judged her unaware of his approach. In his eyes she gained
a new enchantment from the vast and simple spaces of her background, a
sea of dull purple, a sky of violet, divinely clear. Her face had the
intense, unsubstantial pallor, the magic and stillness of flowers that
stand in the blue dusk before night.

She turned at the sound of the man's footsteps on the gravel. She smiled
quietly, as if she knew of his coming, and was waiting for it there. He
greeted her. A few words of no moment passed between them, and there was
a silence. He stood by the low wall with his face set seaward, as if all
his sight were fixed on the trail of smoke that marked the far-off
passage of a steamer. Mrs. Tailleur's face was fixed on his. He was
aware of it.

Standing beside her, he was aware, too, of something about her alien to
sea and sky; something secret, impenetrable, that held her, as it were,
apart, shut in by her own strange and solitary charm.

And she sat there in the deep quiet of a woman intent upon her hour. He
had no ear for the call of her silence, for the voice of the instincts
prisoned in blood and brain.

Presently she rose, shrugging her shoulders and gathering her furs about
her.

"I want to walk," she said; "will you come?"

She led the way to the corner where the low wall was joined by a high
one, dividing the hotel garden from the open down. There was a gate
here; it led to a flight of wooden steps that went zig-zag to the beach
below. At the first turn in the flight a narrow path was cut on the
Cliff side. To the right it rose inland, following the slope of the
down. To the left it ran level under the low wall, then climbed higher
yet to the brow of the headland. There it ended in a square recess, a
small white chamber cut from the chalk and open to the sea and sky. From
the floor of the recess the Cliff dropped sheer to the beach two hundred
feet below.

Mrs. Tailleur took the path to the left. Lucy followed her.

The path was stopped by the bend of the great Cliff, the recess roofed
by i