sucked his moustache, and putting down his cup, said phlegmatically:
“I’ll bet you’ve had a lot of past.”
She looked with a little guiltiness, that flattered him, down at the tablecloth.
“Well,” she said, caressive, “you won’t give me away, who I am, will you?”
“No,” he said, comforting, laughing, “I won’t give you away.”
He was pleased.
She remained silent. After a moment or two she lifted her head, saying:
“I’ve got to arrange with Mrs. Coates, and do various things. So you’d better go out by yourself this morning—and we’ll be in to dinner at one.”
“But you can’t be arranging with Mrs. Coates all morning,” he said.
“Oh, well—then I’ve some letters to write, and I must get that mark out of my skirt. I’ve got plenty of little things to do this morning. You’d better go out by yourself.”
He perceived that she wanted to be rid of him, so that when she went upstairs, he took his hat and lounged out on to the cliffs, suppressedly angry.
Presently she too came out. She wore a hat with roses, and a long lace scarf hung over her white dress. Rather nervously, she put up her sunshade, and her face was half-hidden in its coloured shadow. She went along the narrow track of flag-stones that were worn hollow by the feet of the fishermen. She seemed to be avoiding her surroundings, as if she remained safe in the little obscurity of her parasol.
She passed the church, and went down the lane
