d. But that you should think yourself insulted by such an offer is,
it seems to me, a little absurd. It is quite obvious what you mean to
do with them."

Dahlia smiled.

"Is it?" she said. "That is very clever of you, Miss Trojan. I am
sorry that you should have so much trouble for such a little result."

"There is no more to be said," answered Clare, moving to the door.
"Good morning," and she was gone.

"Oh dear," said Dahlia, as she went back to the window, "how unpleasant
she is. Poor Robin! What a time he will have!"

For her the pathos was over, but for them--well--it had not begun.

CHAPTER XII

The question of the Cove was greatly agitating the mind of Pendragon.
Meetings had been held, a scheme had been drawn up, and it would appear
that the thing was settled. It had been conclusively proved that two
rows of lodging-houses where the Cove now stood would be an excellent
thing. The town was over-crowded--it must spread out in some
direction, and the Cove-end was practically the only possible place for
spreading.

The fishery had been declining year by year, and it was hinted at the
Club that it would be rather a good thing if it declined until it
vanished altogether; the Cove was in no sense of the word useful, and
by its lack of suitable drainage and defective protection from weather,
it was really something of a scandal,--it formed, as Mr. Grayseed, pork
butcher and mayor of the town, pointed out, the most striking contrast
with the upward development so marked in Pendragon of late years. He
called the Cove an "eyesore" and nearly proclaimed it an "anomaly"--but
was restrained by the presence of his wife, a nervous woman who
followed her husband with difficulty in his successful career, and
checked his language when the length of his words threatened their
accuracy.

The town might be said to be at one on these points, and there was no
very obvious reason why the destruction of the Cove should not be
proceeded with--but, still, nothing was done. It was said by a few
that the Cove was picturesque and undoubtedly attracted strangers by
the reason of its dirty, crooked streets and bulging doorways--an odd
taste, they admitted, but nevertheless undoubted and of commercial
importance. On posters Pendragon was described as "the picturesque
abode of old-time manners and customs," and Baedeker had a word about
"charming old-time byways and an old Inn, the haunt, in earlier times,
of smuggle