ea," said the man. "And I give you my word, he was the
finest, pluckiest young amateur we had among the airmen."

Then Christobel's heart began to beat again, and her limbs seemed to
regain the power to move.

"He is mine," she said. "I must go to him. He is my own Little Boy
Blue." And she began to run along the Leas toward the stone steps
which zigzag down to the shore.

She heard the Professor running after her.

"Ann," he called, "Ann! Stay! This is--most--unnecessary!"

She flew on.

"At least take the lift!" bawled the Professor.

She hurried on and reached the steps, pausing an instant to glance back.

The Professor had stopped at the lift, and was waving to her with his
umbrella.

She could never remember running down those steps. In what seemed but
a moment from the time she reached them, she found herself stumbling
painfully down the steep slope of shingle to the water's edge.

The lift, bearing the Professor, had just begun to crawl down the face
of the cliff. She could see him gesticulating through the glass
windows.

The crowd on the shore, chiefly composed of rough men, was thickest
round the base of a wide stone breakwater, jutting out into the sea.
On this break-water stood an empty stretcher. A coast-guardsman
marched up and down, keeping the crowd off the breakwater.

Christobel reached the outskirts of the crowd, and could get no farther.

"Please let me through," she said. "I belong to him. He is mine."

They turned and looked at her.

"She's 'is mother," said a voice. "Let 'er through."

"Mother be blowed!" said another voice, hoarsely. "Get out! She's 'is
_wife_."

"Yes," she cried eagerly. "Yes! Oh, do let me through! I am his
wife."

Suddenly she knew it was true. The Boy's great love had made her his
wife. Had he not said: "You and I are one, Christobel; eternally,
indissolubly _one_. You will find it out, when it is too late"?

The crowd parted, making a way for her, straight to the foot of the
breakwater.

She mounted it, and walked towards the empty stretcher.

The coast-guardsman confronted her.

"He is mine," she said, quietly. "I have the right to be here."

The man saluted, in respectful silence.

She stood gazing out to where the crowd of boats hovered about the
great insect with broken wings.

The sea gleamed golden in the sunset.

One boat, larger than the rest, slowly detached itself from the general
melee, pulling with measured s