understood between mothers for anything that is young and
inconsequent.

"We've gotten Loo Barebone back at any rate," said a man, bearing
the reputation of a wit. And after a long pause one or two
appreciators answered:

"You're right," and laughed good-humouredly.

The Marquis de Gemosac sat down again, with a certain effort at
self-control, on the balk of timber which had been used by some
generations of tide-watchers. He turned and exchanged a glance with
Dormer Colville, who stood at his side leaning on his gold-headed
cane. Colville's expression seemed to say:

"I told you what it would be. But wait: there is more to come."

His affable eyes made a round of the watching faces, and even
exchanged a sympathetic smile with some, as if to hint that his
clothes were only fine because he belonged to a fine generation, but
that his heart was as human as any beating under a homelier coat.

"There's Passen," said one woman to another, behind the corner of
her apron, within Colville's hearing. "It takes a deal to bring him
out o' doors nowadays, and little Sep and--Miss Miriam."

Dormer Colville heard the words. And he heard something unspoken in
the pause before the mention of the last name. He did not look at
once in the direction indicated by a jerk of the speaker's thumb,
but waited until a change of position enabled him to turn his head