Hammond.

At that Janey turned quickly, quickly searched his face.

"You don't mind, John, do you?" she asked. "You don't--It's nothing to
do with you and me."

Somehow or other he managed to shake some sort of smile at her. Somehow
or other he stammered: "No--go--on, go on! I want you to tell me."

"But, John darling--"

"Tell me, Janey!"

"There's nothing to tell," she said, wondering. "He was one of
the first-class passengers. I saw he was very ill when he came on
board... But he seemed to be so much better until yesterday. He had a
severe attack in the afternoon--excitement--nervousness, I think, about
arriving. And after that he never recovered."

"But why didn't the stewardess--"

"Oh, my dear--the stewardess!" said Janey. "What would he have felt? And
besides... he might have wanted to leave a message... to--"

"Didn't he?" muttered Hammond. "Didn't he say anything?"

"No, darling, not a word!" She shook her head softly. "All the time I
was with him he was too weak... he was too weak even to move a finger... "

Janey was silent. But her words, so light, so soft, so chill, seemed to
hover in the air, to rain into his breast like snow.

The fire had gone red. Now it fell in with a sharp sound and the
room was colder. Cold crept up his arms. The room was huge, immense,
glittering. It filled his whole world. There was the great blind bed,
with his coat flung across it like some headless man saying his prayers.
There was the luggage, ready to be carried away again, anywhere, tossed
into trains, carted on to boats.

... "He was too weak. He was too weak to move a finger." And yet he died
in Janey's arms. She--who'd never--never once in all these years--never
on one single solitary occasion--

No; he mustn't think of it. Madness lay in thinking of it. No, he
wouldn't face it. He couldn't stand it. It was too much to bear!

And now Janey touched his tie with her fingers. She pinched the edges of
the tie together.

"You're not--sorry I told you, John darling? It hasn't made you sad? It
hasn't spoilt our evening--our being alone together?"

But at that he had to hide his face. He put his face into her bosom and
his arms enfolded her.

Spoilt their evening! Spoilt their being alone together! They would
never be alone together again.

13. BANK HOLIDAY.

A stout man with a pink face wears dingy white flannel trousers, a blue
coat with a pink handkerchief showing, and a straw hat much too small