and she gazed across the water with continuance of solemn vision.
Her face was almost austere in this mood which had come upon her.

Someone was descending the path which led from the high road; it was
a step too heavy for Paula's, too rapid to be Mr. Newthorpe's.
Annabel turned her head and saw a young man, perhaps of
seven-and-twenty, dressed in a light walking-suit, with a small
wallet hanging from his shoulder and a stick in his hand. At sight
of her he took off his cap and approached her bare-headed.

'I saw from a quarter of a mile away,' he said, 'that someone was
sitting here, and I came down on the chance that it might be you.'

She rose with a very slight show of surprise, and returned his
greeting with calm friendliness.

'We were speaking of you at breakfast. My cousin couldn't tell us
for certain whether you were in England, though she knew you were in
London a month ago.'

'Miss Tyrrell is with you?' he asked, as if it were very unexpected.

'But didn't you know? She has been ill, and they sent her to us to
recruit.'

'Ah! I have been in Jersey for a month; I have heard nothing.'

'You were able to tear yourself from London in mid-season?'

'But when was I a devotee of the Season, Miss Newthorpe?'