Part II



Miss Hastings Brings It to an End



Centuries passed, and again, with the same sweet suddenness as in the
days gone by, spring came to Catalina. Guests of the St. Catherine,
lounging on its wide verandahs, gazed across a sunlit sea to where the
faint cloud that was San Jacinto hovered, the merest ghost of a
mountain, above the misty mainland. Along the broad board-walk leading
down to Avalon benches, shaded by brightstriped awnings, flaunted an
invitation to every passing tourist. Strings of Japanese lanterns bobbed
merrily above the narrow village streets. Everywhere were laughter and
movement and color from the bathing beaches, dotted with gay umbrellas -
even to the last yacht anchored round the point.

To the man making slow progress down the crowded wharf from the
afternoon boat this holiday world into which he thus suddenly stepped,
presented an appearance so different from that he had pictured as almost
to bewilder him. At sight of the jaunty little motorbus waiting to haul
him up the winding grade to the hotel, he actually hesitated. Yet seldom
before, to his knowledge, had he found it difficult to adapt himself to
an unexpected situation.

"Hotel St. Catherine! Bus to the hotel, sir?"

Other guests, more certain of their intentions, pushed impatiently