through a megaphone, to the unconcealed disgust of the neighboring
gamesters.

"If you go along the path at the foot of the hill," he bellowed
rapidly, "and follow it down to the sea, you get a little bay full of
red sandstone rocks--you can't miss it--and there's a fine view of the
island from there. I'd like awfully well to show that to you. It's
great."

She nodded.

"Then shall we meet there?" she said. "When?"

John was in no mood to postpone the event.

"As early as ever you like," he roared.

"At about ten, then. Good-night, Mr. Maude."

* * * * *

John had reached the bay at half-past eight, and had been on guard
there ever since. It was now past ten, but still there were no signs of
Betty. His depression increased. He told himself that she had
forgotten. Then, that she had remembered, but had changed her mind.
Then, that she had never meant to come at all. He could not decide
which of the three theories was the most distressing.

His mood became morbidly introspective. He was weighed down by a sense
of his own unworthiness. He submitted himself to a thorough