to which he replied that he would tell her all about it if she would
send Miss Teagle off with Sidney. Miss Teagle, who was always
anticipating her cue, had already begun ostentatiously to gaze at the
distant shores of France and was easily enough induced to take an
earlier start home and rise to the responsibility of stopping on her
way to contend with the butcher. She had however to retire without
Sidney, who clung to his recovered prey, so that the rest of the
episode was seasoned, to Baron's sense, by the importunate twitch of
the child's little, plump, cool hand. The friends wandered together
with a conjugal air and Sidney not between them, hanging wistfully,
first, over the lengthened picture of the Calais boat, till they
could look after it, as it moved rumbling away, in a spell of silence
which seemed to confess--especially when, a moment later, their eyes
met--that it produced the same fond fancy in each. The presence of
the boy moreover was no hindrance to their talking in a manner that
they made believe was very frank. Peter Baron presently told his
companion what it was he had taken a journey to ask, and he had time
afterwards to get over his discomfiture at her appearance of having
fancied it might be something greater. She seemed disappointed (but
she was forgiving) on learning from him that he had only wished to
know if she judged ferociously his not having complied with her
request to respect certain seals.

"How ferociously do you suspect me of having judged it?" she
inquired.

"Why, to the extent of leaving the house the next moment."

They were still lingering on the great granite pier when he touched
on this matter, and she sat down at the end while the breeze, warmed