as unloved as when he left it.

"Got to go back to-morrow," he said at last. As an impromptu it would
have served, but as the result of half an hour's earnest thought he felt
that it did not do him justice.

"So you said before," remarked Miss Spratt.

"Well, it's still true."

"Talking about it won't help it," said Miss Spratt.

William sighed and looked round the pier. There was an old gentleman
fishing at the end of it, his back turned invitingly to William. In half
an hour he had caught one small fish (which he had had to return as
under the age limit) and a bunch of seaweed. William felt that there was
a wasted life; a life, however, which a sudden kick and a heroic rescue
by W. Bales might yet do something to justify. At the Paddington Baths,
a month ago, he had won a plate-diving competition; and though there is
a difference between diving for plates and diving for old gentlemen he
was prepared to waive it. One kick and then ... Fame! And, not only
Fame, but the admiration of Angelina Spratt.

It was perhaps as well for the old gentleman--who was really quite
worthy, and an hour later caught a full-sized whiting--that Miss Spratt
spoke at this moment.

"Well, you're good company, I must say," she observed to William.

"It's so hot," said William.

"You can't say _I_ asked to come here."

"Let's go on the beach," said William desperately. "We can find a shady
cave or something." Fate was against him; there was to be no rescue that
day.

"I'm sure I'm agreeable," said Miss Spratt.

They walked in silence along the beach, and, rounding a corner of the
cliffs, they came presently to a cave. In earlier days W. Bales could
have done desperate deeds against smugglers there, with Miss Spratt
looking on. Alas for this unromantic age! It was now a place for
picnics, and a crumpled sheet of newspaper on the sand showed that there
had been one there that very afternoon.

They sat in a corner of the cave, out of the sun, out of sight of the
sea, and William prepared to renew his efforts as a conversationalist.
In the hope of collecting a few ideas as to what the London clubs were
talking about he picked up the discarded newspaper, and saw with disgust
that it was the local _Herald_. But just as he threw it down, a line in
it caught his eye and remained in his mind:

"_High tide to-day--3.30._"

William's heart leapt. He looked at his watch; it was 2.30. In one hour
the waves would be dashing remorsele