"Roger's tagging round after her from morning to night."

"He's not the first man to do that," submitted Lord. St. John, smiling,
"Nan is--Nan, you know, and you mustn't assume too much from Roger's
liking to be with her. I'm sure if I were one of her contemporary
young men, I should 'tag round' just like the rest of 'em. So don't
meet trouble half way."

"Optimist!" said Kitty.

"Oh, no." The disclaimer came quickly. "Philosopher."

"I can't be philosophical, unluckily."

"My dear, we have no choice. It isn't we who move the pieces in the
game."

A silence followed. Then, as Kitty vaguely murmured something about
tea, St. John helped her out of the hammock, and together they strolled
towards the house. They found tea in progress on the square lawn
facing the sea and every one foregathered there. Nan, apparently in
wild spirits, was fooling inimitably, and she bestowed a small,
malicious smile on Kitty as she and Lord St. John joined the group
around the tea-table.

It was a glorious afternoon. The sea lay dappled with light and shade
as the sun and vagrant breezes played with it, while for miles along
the coast the great cliffs were wrapt in a soft, quivering haze so that
the lines and curves of their vari-coloured strata, and the bleak,