his punctuality?" he asked.

"I call it feminine punctuality. If a woman fails to keep an appointment
by not more than half an hour, she is a model woman. I promised to meet
you at nine, and it is now barely twenty-five minutes past. Mr. Quirk,
could any woman achieve more than that?"

"My acquaintance with women is so limited that I must refuse to
arbitrate. If I were Desmond, I should swear," answered Denis.

"Have you been swearing, Desmond?" she asked.

"If so, I have forgotten it. I am now the most supremely contented man
in the world," answered Desmond.

"Well, good-bye, children!" cried Denis.

He was surprised at himself for this speech; it was a frivolity that he
had never before been guilty of. But with Sylvia Jackson there were no
restraints, nor was his remark in the slightest degree extraordinary to
her. She called out after him as he went:

"Don't forget our appointment after lunch."

"You have charmed the grizzly bear," said Desmond. "I believe you could
teach him to dance."

"I intend to do that. Before I go away he shall dance to my music, the
dear old grizzly," she answered. "I intend to drop you handsome men and
cultivate the ugly ones. Denis Quirk is charming!"

"I believe he is a good sort," said Desmond, who was above the pettiness
of deprecating a possible rival.

"I am sure that you are the very best of good sorts. Now, what are we to
do?" she answered.

"Walk along the cliffs, and see the grandest sight in Nature--the
eternal war between the ocean and the land," he answered.

And Sylvia Jackson, who was artistic and emotional to an extreme degree,
fully agreed with him when she stood on the cliffs that tower over the
sea just two miles beyond the town.

A strong wind was blowing from the south, the sun shining through a sky
dappled with fleecy broken white cloudlets. The spray sparkled in the
bright light before it broke into a rainbow of changing colours. Above
the big rollers the cliffs rose in broken perpendicular columns; there
was a constant roar in the ears as breaker after breaker hurled itself
on the rocks. Sea-birds wheeled about overhead. In the far distance the
ocean stretched out, to where a bank of clouds rested on the distant
horizon, in slopes and peaks, a perfect copy of snow-clad mountains.

"Don't stand so close to the cliffs!" cried Desmond.

She laughed at him mockingly.

"You need have no fear for me. I am an ethereal spirit, a thing of
vapour," she answ