agine) which Mr. Smith was not anxious to perform. De Barral had to
vanish; the theory was that de Barral had vanished, and it had to be
upheld. Poor Flora liked the country, even if the spot had nothing more
to recommend it than its retired character.

Now and then Captain Anthony ran down; but as the station was a real
wayside one, with no early morning trains up, he could never stay for
more than the afternoon. It appeared that he must sleep in town so as to
be early on board his ship. The weather was magnificent and whenever the
captain of the _Ferndale_ was seen on a brilliant afternoon coming down
the road Mr. Smith would seize his stick and toddle off for a solitary
walk. But whether he would get tired or because it gave him some
satisfaction to see "that man" go away--or for some cunning reason of his
own, he was always back before the hour of Anthony's departure. On
approaching the cottage he would see generally "that man" lying on the
grass in the orchard at some distance from his daughter seated in a chair
brought out of the cottage's living room. Invariably Mr. Smith made
straight for them and as invariably had the feeling that his approach was
not disturbing a very intimate conversation. He sat with them, through a
silent hour or so, and then it would be time for Anthony to go. Mr.
Smith, perhaps from discretion, would casually vanish a minute or so
before, and then watch through the diamond panes of an upstairs room
"that man" take a lingering look outside the gate at the invisible Flora,
lift his hat, like a caller, and go off down the road. Then only Mr.
Smith would join his daughter again.

These were the bad moments for her. Not always, of course, but
frequently. It was nothing extraordinary to hear Mr. Smith begin gently
with some observation like this:

"That man is getting tired of you."

He would never pronounce Anthony's name. It was always "that man."

Generally she would remain mute with wide open eyes gazing at nothing
between the gnarled fruit trees. Once, however, she got up and walked
into the cottage. Mr. Smith followed her carrying the chair. He banged
it down resolutely and in that smooth inexpressive tone so many ears used
to bend eagerly to catch when it came from the Great de Barral he said:

"Let's get away."

She had the strength of mind not to spin round. On the contrary she went
on to a shabby bit of a mirror on the wall. In the greenish glass her
own face