question from Mrs.
Moorhouse, he made known that he proposed staying at the Rolle Arms for
several days, and when he had spoken he glanced at Marcella. She
understood him; he felt sure. An invitation to lunch here on the morrow
was of course accepted.

Before leaving, he exchanged a few words with Buckland.

'Your relatives will be going to town very soon, I understand.

Warricombe nodded.

'Shall I see you at Exeter?' Godwin continued.

'I'm not sure. I shall go over to-morrow, but it's uncertain whether I
shall still be there when you return.'

The Radical was distinctly less amicable than even on the last occasion
of their meeting. They shook hands in rather a perfunctory way.

Early in the evening there was a temporary lull in the storm; rain no
longer fell, and in spaces of the rushing sky a few stars showed
themselves. Unable to rest at the hotel, Peak set out for a walk
towards the cliff summit called Westdown Beacon; he could see little
more than black vacancies, but a struggle with the wind suited his
temper, and he enjoyed the incessant roar of surf in the darkness.
After an hour of this buffeting he returned to the beach, and stood as
close as possible to the fierce breakers. No person was in sight. But
when he began to move towards the upper shore, three female figures
detached themselves from the gloom and advanced in his direction. They
came so near that their voices were audible, and thereupon he stepped
up to them.

'Are you going to the Beacon after all, Miss Moorhouse?'

Sylvia was accompanied by Agatha Walworth and Miss Moxey. She explained
laughingly that they had stolen out, by agreement, whilst the males of
their respective households still lingered at the dinner-table.

'But Mr. Warricombe was right after all. We shall be blown to pieces. A
very little of the romantic goes a long way, nowadays.'

Godwin was determined to draw Marcella aside. Seemingly she met his
wish, for as all turned to regain the shelter of houses she fell behind
her female companions, and stood close by him.

'I want to see you before you go back to London,' he said, bending his
head near to hers.

'I wrote a letter to you this morning,' was her reply.

'A letter? To what address?'

'Your address at Exeter.'

'But how did you know it?'

'I'll explain afterwards.'

'When can I see you?'

'Not here. It's impossible. I shall go to Exeter, and there write to
you again.'

'Very well. You promise to do th