CHAPTER II

ADIEU


It was growing late and the _fête_ was in full swing when Saltash
sauntered down again under the cypress-trees to the water's edge. The sea
was breaking with a murmurous splashing; it was a night for dreams.

In the flower-decked bandstand an orchestra of stringed instruments was
playing very softly--fairy-music that seemed to fill the world with magic
to the brim. It was like a drug to the senses, alluring, intoxicating,
maddeningly sweet.

Saltash wandered along with his face to the water on which a myriad
coloured lights rocked and swam. And still his features wore that
monkeyish look of unrest, of discontent and quizzical irony oddly
mingled. He felt the lure, but it was not strong enough. Its influence
had lost its potency.

He need not have been alone. He had left the hotel with friends, but he
had drifted away from them in the crowd. One of them--a girl--had sought
somewhat palpably to keep him near her, and he had responded with some
show of ardour for a time, and then something about her had struck a note
of discord within him and the glamour had faded.

"Little fool!" he murmured to himself. "She'd give me her heart to break
if I'd have it."

And then he laughed in sheer ridicule of his own jaded senses. He