d found himself dreaming.
The sunshine was delicious, and a gentle optimism seemed to steal over
him.

"I am a fool!" he murmured to himself. "I am catching some part of these
people's folly. Mr. Fentolin is only an ordinary, crotchety invalid with
queer tastes. On the big things he is probably like other men. I shall
go to him this morning."

A sea-gull screamed over his head. Little, brown sailed fishing-boats
came gliding down the harbourway. A pleasant, sensuous joyfulness seemed
part of the spirit of the day. Hamel stretched himself out upon the dry
sand.

"Work be hanged!" he exclaimed.

A soft voice answered him almost in his ear, a voice which was becoming
very familiar.

"A most admirable sentiment, my young friend, which you seem to be doing
your best to live up to. Not a line written, I see."

He sat up upon his rug. Mr. Fentolin, in his little carriage, was there
by his side. Behind was the faithful Meekins, with an easel under his
arm.

"I trust that your first night in your new abode has been a pleasant
one?" Mr. Fentolin asked.

"I slept quite well, thanks," Hamel replied. "Glad to see you're going
to paint."

Mr. Fentolin shook his head gloomily.

"It is, alas!" he declared, "one of my weaknesses. I can work only in
solitude. I came down on the chance that the fine weather might have
tempted you over to the Golf Club. As it is, I shall return."

"I am awfully sorry," Hamel said. "Can't I go out of sight somewhere?"

Mr. Fentolin sighed.

"I will not ask your pardon for my absurd humours," he continued, a
little sadly. "Their existence, however, I cannot deny. I will wait."

"It seems a pity for you to do that," Hamel remarked. "You see, I might
stay here for some time."

Mr. Fentolin's face darkened. He looked at the young man with a sort of
pensive wrath.

"If," the latter went on, "you say 'yes' to something I am going to ask
you, I might even stay--in the neighbourhood--for longer still."

Mr. Fentolin sat quite motionless in his chair; his eyes were fixed upon
Hamel.

"What is it that you are going to ask me?" he demanded.

"I want to marry your niece."

Mr. Fentolin looked at the young man in mild surprise.

"A sudden decision on your part, Mr. Hamel?" he murmured.

"Not at all," Hamel assured him. "I have been ten years looking for
her."

"And the young lady?" Mr. Fentolin enquired. "What does she say?"

"I believe, sir," Hamel replied, "that she would be willing."