.

Next day he found they had arranged to go by train to Totnes, and picnic
at Berry Pomeroy Castle. Still in that resolute oblivion of the past,
he took his place with them in the landau beside Halliday, back to the
horses. And, then, along the sea front, nearly at the turning to the
railway station, his heart almost leaped into his mouth. Megan--Megan
herself!--was walking on the far pathway, in her old skirt and jacket
and her tam-o'-shanter, looking up into the faces of the passers-by.
Instinctively he threw his hand up for cover, then made a feint of
clearing dust out of his eyes; but between his fingers he could see
her still, moving, not with her free country step, but wavering,
lost-looking, pitiful-like some little dog which has missed its master
and does not know whether to run on, to run back--where to run. How had
she come like this?--what excuse had she found to get away?--what did
she hope for? But with every turn of the wheels bearing him away from
her, his heart revolted and cried to him to stop them, to get out, and
go to her! When the landau turned the corner to the station he could
stand it no more, and opening the carriage door, muttered: "I've
forgotten something! Go on--don't wait for me! I'll join you at the
castle by the next train!" He jumped, stumbled, spun round, recovered
his balance, and walked forward, while the carriage with the astonished
Hallidays rolled on.

From the corner he could only just see Megan, a long way ahead now. He
ran a few steps, checked himself, and dropped into a walk. With each
step nearer to her, further from the Hallidays, he walked more and more
slowly. How did it alter anything--this sight of her? How make the going
to her, and that which must come of it, less ugly? For there was no
hiding it--since he had met the Hallidays he had become gradually sure
that he would not marry Megan. It would only be a wild love-time, a
troubled, remorseful, difficult time--and then--well, then he would
get tired, just because she gave him everything, was so simple, and so
trustful, so dewy. And dew--wears off! The little spot of faded colour,
her tam-o'-shanter cap, wavered on far in front of him; she was looking
up into every face, and at the house windows. Had any man ever such
a cruel moment to go through? Whatever he did, he felt he would be a
beast. And he uttered a groan which made a nursemaid turn and stare. He
saw Megan stop and lean against the sea-wall, looking at the se