s took on their
look of out-facing death. Choking down a cough, he faced about, back to
where he had stood above the pigeon-shooting ground.... Olive and that
young fellow! An assignation! At this time in the morning! The earth
reeled. His brother's child--his favourite niece! The woman whom he
most admired--the woman for whom his heart was softest. Leaning over
the stone parapet, no longer seeing either the smooth green of the
pigeon-shooting ground, or the smooth blue of the sea beyond, he was
moved, distressed, bewildered beyond words. Before breakfast! That was
the devil of it! Confession, as it were, of everything. Moreover, he had
seen their hands touching on the seat. The blood rushed up to his
face; he had seen, spied out, what was not intended for his eyes.
Nice position--that! Dolly, too, last night, had seen. But that was
different. Women might see things--it was expected of them. But for
a man--a--a gentleman! The fullness of his embarrassment gradually
disclosed itself. His hands were tied. Could he even consult Dolly? He
had a feeling of isolation, of utter solitude. Nobody--not anybody in
the world--could understand his secret and intense discomfort. To take
up a position--the position he was bound to take up, as Olive's nearest
relative and protector, and--what was it--chaperon, by the aid of
knowledge come at in such a way, however unintentionally! Never in all
his days in the regiment--and many delicate matters affecting honour had
come his way--had he had a thing like this to deal with. Poor child! But
he had no business to think of her like that. No, indeed! She had not
behaved--as--And there he paused, curiously unable to condemn her.
Suppose they got up and came that way!

He took his hands off the stone parapet, and made for his hotel. His
palms were white from the force of his grip. He said to himself as he
went along: "I must consider the whole question calmly; I must think it
out." This gave him relief. With young Lennan, at all events, he
could be angry. But even there he found, to his dismay, no finality
of judgment. And this absence of finality, so unwonted, distressed him
horribly. There was something in the way the young man had been sitting
there beside her--so quiet, so almost timid--that had touched him. This
was bad, by Jove--very bad! The two of them, they made, somehow, a
nice couple! Confound it! This would not do! The chaplain of the little
English church, passing at this moment, c