over sail, catching the breeze as they went aloft--she remembered them.

A suspension bridge, ornamented with straight-tailed lions, took her over
the weedy river, and having crossed some pieces of rough grass, she
climbed the shingle bank. The heat rippled the blue air, and the sea, like
an exhausted caged beast, licked the shingle. Sea-poppies bloomed under
the wheels of a decaying bathing-machine, and Esther wondered. But the sea
here was lonely as a prison, and, seeing the treeless coast with its chain
of towns, her thoughts suddenly reverted to William. She wished he were
with her, and for pleasant contemplation she thought of that happy evening
when she saw him coming through the hunting gate, when, his arm about her,
William had explained that if the horse won she would take seven shillings
out of the sweepstakes. She knew now that William did not care about
Sarah; and that he cared for her had given a sudden and unexpected meaning
to her existence. She lay on the shingle, her day-dream becoming softer
and more delicate as it rounded into summer sleep.

And when the light awoke her she saw flights of white clouds--white up
above, rose-coloured as they approached the west; and when she turned, a
tall, melancholy woman.

"Good evening, Mrs. Randal," said Esther, glad to find someone to speak
to. "I've been asleep."

"Good evening, Miss. You're from Woodview, I think?"

"Yes, I'm the kitchen-maid. They've gone to the races; there was nothing
to do, so I came down here."

Mrs. Randal's lips moved as if she were going to say something. But she