ble, laden with
books, by which Claire often sat long hours reading poetry and volumes
written by modern poets and authors of whom her husband had only
vaguely heard and of whom he definitely disapproved.

The window was wide open, and there floated in from the garden, which
sloped away to the edge and indeed over the crumbling cliff, fragrant,
salt-laden odours, dominated by the clean, sharp scent thrown from huge
shrubs of red and white geraniums. The balls of blossom set against the
belt of blue sea, formed a band of waving tricolor.

But Jacques de Wissant was unconscious, uncaring of the beauty round
him, either in the room or without, and when at last he walked forward
to the window, his face hardened as his eyes instinctively sought out
the spot where, if hidden from his sight, he knew there lay the deep
transparent waters of the little bay which had been selected as
providing ideal quarters for the submarine flotilla.

He had eagerly assented to the sacrifice of his land, and, what meant
far more to him, of his privacy; but now he would have given much--and
he was a careful man--to have had the submarine station swept away,
transferred to the other side of Falaise.

Down there, out of sight of the Pavillon, and yet but a few minutes away
(if one used the dangerous cliff-stairway), dwelt Jacques de Wissant's
secret foe, for the man of whom he was acutely, miserably jealous was
Commander Dupre, of whose coming departure he as yet knew nothing.

The owner of the Pavillon de Wissant seldom entered the room where he
now stood impatiently waiting for his wife, and he never did so without
looking round him with distaste, and remembering with an odd, wistful
feeling what it had been like in his mother's time. Then "le boudoir de
madame" had reflected the tastes and simple interests of an
old-fashioned provincial lady born in the year that Louis Philippe came
to the throne. Greatly did the man now standing there prefer the room as
it had been to what it was now!

The heavy, ugly furniture which had been there in the days of his lonely
youth, for he had been an only child, was now in the schoolroom where
the twin daughters of the house, Clairette and Jacqueline, did their
lessons with Miss Doughty, their English governess.

Clairette and Jacqueline? Jacques de Wissant's lantern-jawed,
expressionless face quickened into feeling as he thought of his two
little girls. They were the pride, as well as the only vivid ple