ella, whose face was again of its normal sun-touched pink
and white. It was soothing to be so taken to the heart of this jolly
family, fascinating to watch their faces. And after tea, while the two
little girls pressed seaweed, he talked to Stella in the window seat
and looked at her water-colour sketches. The whole thing was like a
pleasurable dream; time and incident hung up, importance and reality
suspended. Tomorrow he would go back to Megan, with nothing of all this
left save the paper with the blood of these children, in his pocket.
Children! Stella was not quite that--as old as Megan! Her talk--quick,
rather hard and shy, yet friendly--seemed to flourish on his silences,
and about her there was something cool and virginal--a maiden in
a bower. At dinner, to which Halliday, who had swallowed too much
sea-water, did not come, Sabina said:

"I'm going to call you Frank."

Freda echoed:

"Frank, Frank, Franky."

Ashurst grinned and bowed.

"Every time Stella calls you Mr. Ashurst, she's got to pay a forfeit.
It's ridiculous."

Ashurst looked at Stella, who grew slowly red. Sabina giggled; Freda
cried:

"She's 'smoking'--'smoking!'--Yah!"

Ashurst reached out to right and left, and grasped some fair hair in
each hand.

"Look here," he said, "you two! Leave Stella alone, or I'll tie you
together!"

Freda gurgled:

"Ouch! You are a beast!"

Sabina murmured cautiously:

"You call her Stella, you see!"

"Why shouldn't I? It's a jolly name!"

"All right; we give you leave to!"

Ashurst released the hair. Stella! What would she call him--after this?
But she called him nothing; till at bedtime he said, deliberately:

"Good-night, Stella!"

"Good-night, Mr.----Good-night, Frank! It was jolly of you, you know!"

"Oh-that! Bosh!"

Her quick, straight handshake tightened suddenly, and as suddenly became
slack.

Ashurst stood motionless in the empty sitting-room. Only last night,
under the apple tree and the living blossom, he had held Megan to
him, kissing her eyes and lips. And he gasped, swept by that rush of
remembrance. To-night it should have begun-his life with her who only
wanted to be with him! And now, twenty-four hours and more must pass,
because-of not looking at his watch! Why had he made friends with this
family of innocents just when he was saying good-bye to innocence, and
all the rest of it? 'But I mean to marry her,' he thought; 'I told her
so!'

He took a candle, lighted it, and