word, they walked towards the hotel, side by
side, close together, so that their hands almost touched. When they were
not ten paces from the door, they stopped again and looked at each
other.

At that moment Clare saw her mother's dark figure on the threshold. The
pair must have heard her steps, for they separated a little and
instantly went on, passing Mrs. Bowring quickly. Clare sat still in her
place, waiting for her mother to come to her. She feared lest, if she
moved, the two might come back for an instant, see her, and understand
that they had been watched. Mrs. Bowring went forward a few steps.

"Clare!" she called.

"Yes," answered the young girl softly. "Here I am."

"Oh--I could not see you at all," said her mother. "Come down into the
moonlight."

The young girl descended the steps, and the two began to walk up and
down together on the platform.

"Those were two of the people from the yacht that I met at the door,"
said Mrs. Bowring. "The lady in white serge, and that good-looking young
man."

"Yes," Clare answered. "They were here some time. I don't think they saw
me."

She had meant to tell her mother something of what had happened, in the
hope of being told that she had done right in not revealing her
presence. But on second thoughts she resolved to say nothing about it.
To have told the story would have seemed like betraying a confidence,
even though they were strangers to her.

"I could not help wondering about them this afternoon," said Mrs.
Bowring. "She ordered him about in a most extraordinary way, as though
he had been her servant. I thought it in very bad taste, to say the
least of it. Of course I don't know anything about their relations, but
it struck me that she wished to show him off, as her possession."

"Yes," answered Clare, thoughtfully. "I thought so too."

"Very foolish of her! No man will stand that sort of thing long. That
isn't the way to treat a man in order to keep him."

"What is the best way?" asked the young girl idly, with a little laugh.

"Don't ask me!" answered Mrs. Bowring quickly, as they turned in their
walk. "But I should think--" she added, a moment later, "I don't
know--but I should think--" she hesitated.

"What?" inquired Clare, with some curiosity.

"Well, I was going to say, I should think that a man would wish to feel
that he is holding, not that he is held. But then people are so
different! One can never tell. At all events, it is foolish to wish