stillness of this dame bien mise,
who had risen so early.

V

In the small hours, which so many wish were smaller, the Colonel had
awakened, with the affair of the handkerchief swelling visibly. His
niece's husband was not a man that he had much liking for--a taciturn
fellow, with possibly a bit of the brute in him, a man who rather rode
people down; but, since Dolly and he were in charge of Olive, the notion
that young Lennan was falling in love with her under their very noses was
alarming to one naturally punctilious. It was not until he fell asleep
again, and woke in full morning light, that the remedy occurred to him.
She must be taken out of herself! Dolly and he had been slack; too
interested in this queer place, this queer lot of people! They had
neglected her, left her to. . . Boys and girls!--One ought always to
remember. But it was not too late. She was old Lindsay's daughter;
would not forget herself. Poor old Lindsay--fine fellow; bit too much,
perhaps, of the--Huguenot in him! Queer, those throw-backs! Had noticed
in horses, time and again--white hairs about the tail, carriage of the
head--skip generations and then pop out. And Olive had something of his
look--the same ivory skin, same colour of eyes and hair! Only she was not
severe, like her father, not exactly! And once more there shot through
the Colonel a vague dread, as of a trusteeship neglected. It
disappeared, however, in his bath.

He was out before eight o'clock, a thin upright figure in hard straw hat
and grey flannel clothes, walking with the indescribable loose poise of
the soldier Englishman, with that air, different from the French, German,
what not, because of shoulders ever asserting, through their drill, the
right to put on mufti; with that perfectly quiet and modest air of
knowing that, whatever might be said, there was only one way of wearing
clothes and moving legs. And, as he walked, he smoothed his drooping grey
moustache, considering how best to take his niece out of herself. He
passed along by the Terrace, and stood for a moment looking down at the
sea beyond the pigeon-shooting ground. Then he moved on round under the
Casino into the gardens at the back. A beautiful spot! Wonderful care
they had taken with the plants! It made him think a little of Tushawore,
where his old friend the Rajah--precious old rascal!--had gardens to his
palace rather like these. He paced again to the front. It was nice and
quiet in