had gone up the hill--how
long ago was it? Nell's face and hands were brown with the kiss of
God's sun; Lady Lucille's face was like a piece of delicate Sevres, and
her hands were incased in white kid gauntlets. To him, at that moment,
she looked like an actress playing in a nautical burlesque at the
Gaiety; and, for the first time since he had known her, he found himself
looking at her critically, and, notwithstanding her faultless
attire--faultless from a fashionable point of view--with disapproval.

"You are surprised to see me, Luce?" he said.

"Of course I am," she replied. "I'd no idea where you were. I've written
to you--twice."

"Have you?" he said. "That was good of you. I've not had your letters;
but that's my fault, not yours. I told Sparling not to send any letters
on."

She looked down, as if rather embarrassed, and dug at the interstices of
the rough stone pavement with her dainty, and altogether unnautical,
sunshade.

"But what are you doing here?" she asked. "And--and what's the matter
with your arm? Isn't that a sling?"

"Yes, it's a sling," he said casually. "I'd been hunting with the Devon
and Somerset; I found London unbearable, and I came down here suddenly.
I meant to write and tell you; but just then I wasn't in the humor to
write to any one, even to you. I lost my way in one of the runs, and was
riding down the top of the hill here, riding carelessly, I'll admit, for
when the horse shied, I was chucked off. I broke my arm and knocked my
head. Oh, don't trouble," he added hastily, as if to ward off her
commiseration. "I am all right now; the arm will soon be in working
order again."

"I'm very sorry," she said, lifting her eyes to his, but only for a
moment. "You look rather pulled down and seedy."

"Oh, I'm all right," he said. "And now, as I have explained my presence
here, perhaps you will explain yours."

"I've come here in the _Seagull_," she said. "Father's on board. He said
you'd offered to lend the yacht to him--you did, I suppose?"

Drake nodded indifferently.

"Oh, yes," he said. "The _Seagull_ was quite at your father's service."

"Well, father made a party; Sir Archie Walbrooke, Mrs. Horn-Wallis and
her husband, Lady Pirbright, and ourselves."

Drake nodded as indifferently as before. He knew the persons she had
mentioned; members of the smart set in which he had spent his life--and
his money; and Lady Lucille continued in somewhat apologetic fashion:

"We went to th