them, and there stirred within him vague
longings, chilled instantly by a vision of Megan's anxious face lifted to
the faces of the passers-by.

He said shortly: "How jolly!" and turned away. He went up to his room,
and, avoiding the children, who were coming up the stairs, threw himself
on his bed, and lay there with his arms crossed over his face. Now that
he felt the die really cast, and Megan given up, he hated himself, and
almost hated the Hallidays and their atmosphere of healthy, happy English
homes.

Why should they have chanced here, to drive away first love--to show him
that he was going to be no better than a common seducer? What right had
Stella, with her fair, shy beauty, to make him know for certain that he
would never marry Megan; and, tarnishing it all, bring him such
bitterness of regretful longing and such pity? Megan would be back by
now, worn out by her miserable seeking--poor little thing!--expecting,
perhaps, to find him there when she reached home. Ashurst bit at his
sleeve, to stifle a groan of remorseful longing. He went to dinner glum
and silent, and his mood threw a dinge even over the children. It was a
melancholy, rather ill tempered evening, for they were all tired; several
times he caught Stella looking at him with a hurt, puzzled expression,
and this pleased his evil mood. He slept miserably; got up quite early,
and wandered out. He went down to the beach. Alone there with the
serene, the blue, the sunlit sea, his heart relaxed a little. Conceited
fool--to think that Megan would take it so hard! In a week or two she
would almost have forgotten! And he well, he would have the reward of
virtue! A good young man! If Stella knew, she would give him her
blessing for resisting that devil she believed in; and he uttered a hard
laugh. But slowly the peace and beauty of sea and sky, the flight of the
lonely seagulls, made him feel ashamed. He bathed, and turned homewards.

In the Crescent gardens Stella herself was sitting on a camp stool,
sketching. He stole up close behind. How fair and pretty she was, bent
diligently, holding up her brush, measuring, wrinkling her brows.

He said gently:

"Sorry I was such a beast last night, Stella."

She turned round, startled, flushed very pink, and said in her quick way:

"It's all right. I knew there was something. Between friends it doesn't
matter, does it?"

Ashurst answered:

"Between friends--and we are, aren't we?"

She