"Forgive me for asking!"

She looked up at him then with that in her eyes which he could not
understand.

"Mr. Durant," she said, steadily, "I thank you very much, and it
isn't--that. But I can only be your friend."

"Never anything more, Molly?" he said, and he smiled at her, very
gently, very kindly, but without tenderness.

"No, sir," Molly said in the same steady tone. "Never anything more."

* * *

"Well," said Gregory Mountfort on the following day, "this place has
done wonders for you, Hugh. You're a different man."

"I believe I am," said Hugh.

He spoke with his eyes upon a bouquet of poppies and corn that had been
left at his door without any message early that morning. It was eloquent
to him of a friendship that did not mean to be lightly extinguished, but
his heart was heavy notwithstanding. He had begun to desire something
greater than friendship.

"Physically," said Mountfort, "you are stronger than I ever expected to
see you again. You don't suffer much pain now, do you?"

"No, not much," said Durant.

He turned to stare out of his open window at the sunlit sea. His eyes
were full of weariness.

"Look here," the doctor said. "You're not an invalid any longer. I
should leave this place if I were you. Go abroad! Go round the world!
Don't stagnate any longer! It isn't worthy of you."

Hugh Durant shook his head.

"It's no good trying to float a stranded hulk, dear fellow," he said.
"Don't attempt it! I am better off where I am."

"You ought to get married," his friend returned brusquely. "You weren't
created for the lonely life."

"I shall never marry," Durant said quietly.

And Mountfort was disappointed. He wondered if he were still vexing his
soul over the irrevocable.

He had motored down from town, and in the afternoon he carried his
patient off for a thirty-mile spin. They went through the depths of the
country, through tiny villages hidden among the hills, through long
stretches of pine woods, over heather-covered uplands. But though it did
him good, Durant was conscious of keenest pleasure when, returning, they
ran into view of the sea. He felt that the shore and the sand-dunes were
his own peculiar heritage.

Mountfort steered for the village scattered over the top of the cliff.
Durant had persuaded him to remain for the night, and he had to send a
telegram. They puffed up a steep, winding hill to the post-office, and
the doctor got out.

"Back in thirty