They used to know each other, and their acquaintance is about the bitterest thing Joe Ellison has to remember." Of course he'd never mention Old Jimmie Carlisle, Larry said to himself as he destroyed the note--never guessing, in making this natural response to what seemed a most natural request, that he had become an unconscious partner in the plan of the warm-hearted, scheming Duchess.
There was one detail of Joe Ellison's behavior which aroused Larry's mild curiosity.

Directly beneath one of Joe's gardens, hardly a hundred yards away, was a bit of beach and a pavilion which were used in common by the families from the surrounding estates.

The girls and younger women were just home from schools and colleges, and at high tide were always on the beach.

At this period, whenever he was at Cedar Crest, Larry saw Joe, his work apparently forgotten, gazing fixedly down upon the young figures splashing about the water in their bright bathing-suits or lounging about the pavilion in their smart summer frocks.
This interest made Larry wonder, though to be sure not very seriously.
For he had never a guess of how deep Joe's interest was.

He did not know, could not know, that that tall, fixed figure, with its one absorbing idea, was thinking of his daughter.