owly.
Style's the thing--Flaubert and Pater for ever--the doctrine of the one
word."

Robin looked at him with admiration.

"By Jove, Randal, I wish I could write; I sometimes feel quite--well,
it sounds silly--but inspired, you know--as if one saw things quite
differently. It was very like that in Germany once or twice."

"Ah, we're all like that at times," Randal spoke encouragingly. "But
don't you trust it--an _ignis fatuus_ if ever there was one. That is
why we have bank clerks at Peckham and governesses in Bloomsbury
writing their reminiscences. It's those moments of inspiration that
are responsible for all our over-crowded literature."

They had chosen the path over the fields to the station, and suddenly
at the bend of the hill the sea sprang before them, a curving mirror
that reflected the blue of the sky and was clouded mistily with the
gold of the sun. That sudden springing forward of the sea was always
very wonderful, even when it had been seen again and again, and Robin
stopped and shaded his eyes with his hand.

"It's fine, isn't it, Randal?" he said. "One gets fond of the place."

He was a little ashamed to have betrayed such feeling and spoke
apologetically. He went on hurriedly. "There was an old chap in
Germany--at Worms--who was most awfully interesting. He kept a little
bookshop, and I used to go down and talk to him, and he said once that
the sea was the most beautiful dream that the world contained, but you
must never get too near or the dream broke, and from that moment you
had no peace."

Randal looked at Robin anxiously. "I say, old chap, this place is
getting on your nerves; always being here is bad for you. Why don't
you come up to town or go abroad? You're seedy."

"Oh, I'm all right," Robin said, rather irritably. "Only one wonders
sometimes if--" he broke off suddenly. "I'm a bit worried about
something," he said.

He was immediately aware that he had said nothing to Randal about the
Feverel affair and he wondered why. Randal would have been the natural
person to talk to about it; his advice would have been worth having.
But Robin felt vaguely that it would be better not. For some strange
reason, as yet unanalysed, he scarcely trusted him as he had done in
the old days. He was still wondering why, when they arrived at the
station.

They said good-bye affectionately--rather more affectionately than
usual. There was a little sense of strain, and Robin felt reliev