ul, intelligent voice in which you talk to a child who
has to be kept happy and amused.

Ronnie let her go on talking in that voice, while he took his bearings.

He glanced at her, furtively, once; then turned his eyes seaward again.

Helen, also, was wearing a fur coat, and a pretty grey fur toque on her
soft hair. Her face seemed thinner than it used to be; but the sea
breeze and sunshine had brought a bright colour to her cheeks.

Ronnie's eyes left the ripples, and wandered cautiously up and down the
shore.

The beach was deserted. No moving figures dotted the esplanade. Helen
and he would have been alone, had it not been for one tiresome man who
sat reading on the next seat to theirs. He looked like a superior valet
or upper footman, in a bowler and a black morning coat. He was just out
of earshot; but his presence prevented Ronnie from feeling himself alone
with Helen, and increased the careful caution with which he took his
bearings.

At last he felt the moment had arrived to stop Helen's well-meant
attempts at amusing him.

The man on the other seat was a dozen yards off to the right. Helen sat
quite close to him on the left. He turned his back on the other seat and
looked earnestly into his wife's face.

"Helen," he said, quietly, "how did we get here?"

"We motored, darling. It isn't very far across country, though to get
here by train we should have to go up to town and down again."

"When did we come?"

"Yesterday. Ronnie, do look at those funny little wooden houses just
beyond us on the esplanade. They take the place of bathing-machines, or
bathing-tents, in summer. They can be hired just for the morning, or you
can engage one for the whole time of your visit, and furnish it
comfortably. Don't you think it is quite a good idea? And people give
them such grand names. I saw one called 'Woodstock,' and another
'Highcombe House.' If we took one, we should have to call it 'The
Grange.'"

"Helen, you have told me all about those little huts twice already,
during the last half-hour. Only, last time you had seen one called
'Runnymead,' and another called 'The Limes.' Presently, if you like, we
will walk along and read all the names. It is just the kind of thing
which would appeal to our joint sense of humour. But first you must
answer a few more questions. Helen--where is my 'cello?"

"At home, Ronnie."

"Was it broken?"

Helen looked distressed. "No, darling, it was not injured at all. It is
sa