"Mrs Fyne did not come with her husband," I went on, then
hesitated before that white face so still in the pearly shadow thrown
down by the hat-brim. "But she sent him," I murmured by way of warning.

Her eyelids fluttered slowly over the fixed stare. I imagine she was
not much disconcerted by this development. "I live a long way from
here," she whispered.

I said perfunctorily, "Do you?" And we remained gazing at each other.
The uniform paleness of her complexion was not that of an anaemic girl.
It had a transparent vitality and at that particular moment the faintest
possible rosy tinge, the merest suspicion of colour; an equivalent, I
suppose, in any other girl to blushing like a peony, while she told me
that Captain Anthony had arranged to show her the ship that morning.

It was easy to understand that she did not want to meet Fyne. And when
I mentioned in a discreet murmur that he had come because of her letter
she glanced at the hotel door quickly, and moved off a few steps to a
position where she could watch the entrance without being seen. I
followed her. At the junction of the two thoroughfares she stopped in
the thin traffic of the broad pavement and turned to me with an air of
challenge. "And so you know."

I told her that I had not seen the letter. I had only heard of it. She
was a little impatient. "I mean all about me."

Yes. I knew all about her. The distress of Mr and Mrs Fyne--
especially of Mrs Fyne--was so great that they would have shared it
with anybody almost--not belonging to their circle of friends. I
happened to be at hand--that was all.

"You understand that I am not their friend. I am only a holiday
acquaintance."

"She was not very much upset?" queried Flora de Barral, meaning, of
course, Mrs Fyne. And I admitted that she was less so than her
husband--and even less than myself. Mrs Fyne was a very self-possessed
person whom nothing could startle out of her extreme theoretical
position. She did not seem startled when Fyne and I proposed going to
the quarry.

"You put that notion into their heads," the girl said.

I advanced that the notion was in their heads already. But it was much
more vividly in my head since I had seen her up there with my own eyes,
tempting Providence.

She was looking at me with extreme attention, and murmured:

"Is that what you called it to them? Tempting..."

"No. I told them that you were making up your mind and I came along
just