ature whom each
had chosen. And each was to be thwarted by the make-believe regard of
unworthy youth and fatuous good looks! Crumb, by dogged perseverance
and indifference to many things, would probably be successful at last.
But what chance was there of success for him? Ruby, as soon as want or
hardship told upon her, would return to the strong arm that could be
trusted to provide her with plenty and comparative ease. But Hetta
Carbury, if once her heart had passed from her own dominion into the
possession of another, would never change her love. It was possible,
no doubt,--nay, how probable,--that her heart was still vacillating. Roger
thought that he knew that at any rate she had not as yet declared her
love. If she were now to know,--if she could now learn,--of what nature
was the love of this other man; if she could be instructed that he was
living alone with a lady whom not long since he had promised to marry,--
if she could be made to understand this whole story of Mrs Hurtle,
would not that open her eyes? Would she not then see where she could
trust her happiness, and where, by so trusting it, she would certainly
be shipwrecked!

'Never,' said Roger to himself, hitting at the stones on the beach
with his stick. 'Never.' Then he got his horse and rode back to
Carbury Manor.

CHAPTER XLVII - MRS HURTLE AT LOWESTOFT

When Paul got down into the dining-room Mrs Hurtle was already there,
and the waiter was standing by the side of the table ready to take the
cover off the soup. She was radiant with smiles and made herself
especially pleasant during dinner, but Paul felt sure that everything
was not well with her. Though she smiled, and talked and laughed,
there was something forced in her manner. He almost knew that she was
only waiting till the man should have left the room to speak in a
different strain. And so it was. As soon as the last lingering dish
had been removed, and when the door was finally shut behind the
retreating waiter, she asked the question which no doubt had been on
her mind since she had walked across the strand to the hotel. 'Your
friend was hardly civil; was he, Paul?'

'Do you mean that he should have come in? I have no doubt it was true
that he had dined.'

'I am quite indifferent about his dinner,--but there are two ways of
declining as there are of accepting. I suppose he is on very intimate
terms with you?'

'Oh, yes.'

'Then his want of courtesy was the more evidently int