Gregory at once inferred
that Madame von Marwitz had been writing for information concerning
himself.

She must by now have become aware of his correspondence with Karen and
its significant continuity.

"Are there any messages?--any news?" asked Karen, and she could not keep
dejection from her voice. She had had no letter.

"It's only a business note," said Mrs. Talcott. "Hasn't Miss Scrotton
written?"

"Does my cousin keep you posted as a rule?" Gregory asked, as Karen
shook her head.

"No; but Tante asks her to write sometimes, when she is too tired or
rushed; and I had a letter from her, giving me their plans, only a few
days ago; so that I know that all is well. It is only that I am always
greedy for Tante's letters, and this is the day on which they often
come."

They went in to lunch. Karen spoke little during the meal. Gregory and
Mrs. Talcott carried on a desultory conversation about hotels and the
different merits of different countries in this respect. Mrs. Talcott
had a vast experience of hotels. From Germany to Australia, from New
York to St. Petersburg, they were known to her.

After lunch he and Karen started on their walk. It had been a morning of
white fog and the mist still lay thickly over the sea, so that from the
high cliff-path, a clear, pale sky above them, they looked down into
milky gulfs of space. Then, as the sun shone softly and a gentle breeze
arose, a rift of dark, still blue appeared below, as the sky appears
behind dissolving clouds, and fold upon fold, slumbrously, the mist
rolled back upon itself. The sea lay like a floor of polished sapphire
beneath the thick, soft webs. Far below, in a cavern, the sound of
lapping water clucked, and a sea-gull, indolently intent, drifted by
slowly on dazzling wings.

Karen and Gregory reached their headland and, seating themselves on the
short, warm turf, looked out over the sea. During the walk they had
hardly spoken, and he had wondered whether her thoughts were with him
and with their last words yesterday, or dwelling still on her
disappointment. But presently, as if her preoccupation had drifted from
her as the fog had drifted from the sea, Karen turned tranquil eyes upon
him and said: "I suddenly thought, and the stillness made me think it,
and Mrs. Talcott's hotels, too, perhaps, of all that is going on in the
world while we sit here so lonely and so peaceful. Frenchmen with fat
cheeks and flat-brimmed silk hats sitting at little tin t