e hours went on, his eyes seemed never to let
her alone.

At Torquay, the sky was clear and starry; the wind brought whiffs of
sea-scent into their cab; lights winked far out on a headland; and in
the little harbour, all bluish dark, many little boats floated like tame
birds. He had put his arm round her, and she could feel his hand resting
on her heart. She was grateful that he kept so still. When the cab
stopped and they entered the hall of the hotel, she whispered:

"Don't let's let them see!"

Still, mercifully, little things! Inspecting the three rooms, getting
the luggage divided between dressing-room and bedroom, unpacking,
wondering which dress to put on for dinner, stopping to look out over
the dark rocks and the sea, where the moon was coming up, wondering if
she dared lock the door while she was dressing, deciding that it would
be silly; dressing so quickly, fluttering when she found him suddenly
there close behind her, beginning to do up her hooks. Those fingers were
too skilful! It was the first time she had thought of his past with a
sort of hurt pride and fastidiousness. When he had finished, he twisted
her round, held her away, looked at her from head to foot, and said
below his breath:

"Mine!"

Her heart beat fast then; but suddenly he laughed, slipped his arm about
her, and danced her twice round the room. He let her go demurely down
the stairs in front of him, saying:

"They shan't see--my Gyp. Oh, they shan't see! We are old married
people, tired of each other--very!"

At dinner it amused him at first--her too, a little--to keep up this
farce of indifference. But every now and then he turned and stared at
some inoffensive visitor who was taking interest in them, with such
fierce and genuine contempt that Gyp took alarm; whereon he laughed.
When she had drunk a little wine and he had drunk a good deal, the farce
of indifference came to its end. He talked at a great rate now, slying
nicknaming the waiters and mimicking the people around--happy thrusts
that made her smile but shiver a little, lest they should be heard or
seen. Their heads were close together across the little table. They went
out into the lounge. Coffee came, and he wanted her to smoke with him.
She had never smoked in a public room. But it seemed stiff and "missish"
to refuse--she must do now as his world did. And it was another little
thing; she wanted little things, all the time wanted them. She drew back
a window-curtain,