other men who lounged by the sea, smoking and lolling at ease. He was
different, as she was different. And she was going to him. How happy she
was! And why did her breath come quickly and her heart sink? She could
not bother to decide that question. She was too excited to do so. In all
her life she had never known a moment of such breathless anticipation,
of excitement which she believed was all happiness.

There was one other thought that Jenny shirked, and that went on
nevertheless in spite of her inattention, plying and moulding somewhere
deep below her thrilling joy. The thought was, that she must not show
Keith that she loved him, because while she knew--she felt sure--that He
loved her, she must not be the smallest fraction of time before him in
confession. She was too proud for that. He would tell her that he loved
her; and the spell would be broken. Her shyness would be gone; her
bravado immediately unnecessary. But until then she must beware. It was
as necessary to Keith's pride as to her own that he should win her. The
Keith she loved would not care for a love too easily won. The
consciousness of this whole issue was at work below her thoughts; and
her thoughts, from joy and dread, to the discomfort of doubt, raced
faster than the car, speedless and headlong. Among them were two that
bitterly corroded. They were of Pa and of Keith's confidence that she
would come. Both were as poison in her mind.


ii

And then there came a curious sense that something had happened. The car
stopped in darkness, and through the air there came in the huge tones of
Big Ben the sound of a striking hour. It was nine o'clock. They were
back at Westminster. Before her was the bridge, and above was the