to make
a game of tennis in the hot sun seem more of a diversion than the steady
pacing of the luxurious car along the road which laced the forest to
the singing beaches. She had to let her sidewise smile do what it could
toward making the girl's bald evasion of her engagement seem the mere
flutter and hesitancy of besieged femininity. For the moment she was as
much "outside" so far as her daughter was concerned as Peter was of the
select bright circle in which she moved.

The way opened before them, beautiful in late bloom and heavy fern,
above which the sea wind kept a perpetual movement of aliveness.

"Eunice _will_ miss it," Mrs. Goodward rallied; "such a perfect
afternoon!" She gave him the oblique smile again, weighted this time
with the knowledge of all that Peter hadn't been able or hadn't tried to
keep from her. "It isn't easy, is it," she went on addressing her speech
to whatever, at the mention of her daughter's name, hung in the air
between them, "to stand by and see other people's great moments hover
over them. One would like so to lend a hand. And one is sure of nothing
so much as that if they are really to _be_ big, one mustn't."

"If you feel that," Peter snatched at encouragement, "that it is really
the big thing for her--what I'm sure you can't help knowing what I
mean--what I hope."

"What _I_ feel----? After all, it's _her_ feeling, my dear Mr.
Weatheral, that we have to take into account. It wouldn't be fair for me
to attempt to answer to you for that!"

"And of course if I can't _make_ her feel...." He did not trust himself
to a conclusion.

They found, however, when the road issued on the coast opposite the
great bursting bulks of spray, that Eunice's desertion and the
extenuation of it to which they had lent themselves, had put them out of
the mood for the high wind and warring surf of the Reef. Accordingly
they turned aside at Peter's suggestion to have tea at a little country
inn farther back in the hills, where the pound of the sea was reduced to
a soft, organ-booming bass to which the shrill note of the needles
countered in perfect tune. The tea garden, the favourite port of call
for afternoon drives from the resorts hereabouts, lay back of the
hostelry in a narrow, ferny glen from which springs issued. As Peter led
the way up its rocky stair, they could hear the light laughter of a
party just rising from one of the round rustic tables. The group
descending poured past them a summer-c