'Yes.'

Mrs. Ormonde bore the picture away. In a few minutes Egremont took his
leave, and went to the hotel to which he had sent his travelling-bag
from Brighton. It was long before he slept. He was thinking of a night
a little more than a year ago, when he had walked by the shore and held
debate with himself....

On the following evening, shortly before sunset, Annabel and he walked
on the short dry grass of the Down that rises to Beachy Head. There had
been another day of supreme tranquillity, of blurred sunshine, of
soothing autumnal warmth. And this was the crowning hour. The mist had
drifted from the land and the sea; as the two continued their ascent,
the view became lovelier. They regarded it, but spoke of other things.

'I have no wish to go back to America,' Egremont was saying, 'but, if I
do, I shall very likely settle there for good. I don't think I am
ideally adapted to a pursuit of that kind, but habit makes it quite
tolerable.'

'What should you do if you remained in England?' Annabel asked, her
voice implying no more than friendly interest.

'I might say that I don't know, but it wouldn't be true. I know well
enough I should live the life of a student, and of a man who looks on
contemporary things with an artistic interest, though he lacks the
artistic power to use his observations. In time I should marry. I
should have pleasure in my house, should make it as beautiful as might
be, should gather a very few friends about me. I should not become
morbid; the danger of that is over. Every opportunity I saw of helping
those less fortunate than myself I should gladly seize; it is not
impossible that I might seek opportunities, that I might found some
institution--of quite commonplace aims, be assured. For instance, I
should like to see other Homes like Mrs. Ormonde's; many women could
conduct them, if the means were supplied. And so on.'

'Yes, that is all very reasonable. It lies with yourself to decide
whether you might not have a breezier existence in America.'

'True. But not with myself to decide whether I remain here or go back
again. I ask you to help me in determining that.'

Annabel stood as one who reflects gravely yet collectedly. Egremont
fixed his eyes upon her, until she looked at him then his gaze
questioned silently.

'Let us understand each other,' said Annabel. 'Do you say this because
of anything that has been in the past?'

'Not _because_ of it; in continuance of it.'

'Yet