any reason why he should strive to do so. He had experienced pleasant
moments in their company, but one woman was pretty much the same as
another to him, and it is quite certain that no such thing as a faded
flower, or a glove, or love token of any kind held a place among his
treasures. No woman in the past had given him a single heart throb
which love lent a sense of pain to, and it seemed unlikely that any
woman would wish to do so now. For Desmond Ellerey was a man under a
cloud, a very black cloud, the gloom of which even this breezy morning
could not entirely dispel from his face. He had set himself to bear
his burden bravely, but the task was a heavy one. Surely those
straightforward blue eyes gave the lie to much that was said against
him?

There were few hours in the day in which he did not brood over his
trouble, over the loss of his career which it involved, and as he
approached the top of the downs his eyes were bent upon the ground in
deep thought, while in his heart was fierce rebellion against the world
and his fellow men.

He was suddenly startled by a sharp and shrill "Hallo!" and at the
same moment was aware of a straw hat racing past him a little to his
left. A run of a few yards enabled him to intercept it, and he grasped
it in his strong fingers, regardless of the flowers and ribbons upon
it. Then he turned to discover the owner.

She was standing on the summit of the downs, her loose hair streaming
in the breeze. She did not come to meet him, but waited for him to go
to her.

"I am afraid it is not improved," he said, handing her the hat.