So I shall be quite helpless to aid you in case your memory fails." "I don't think it will fail," she said, looking at the flashing sea.

A curious tingling sensation of fright had seized her--something entirely unknown to her heretofore.

She spoke again because frightened; the heavy, hard pulse in breast and throat played tricks with her voice and she swallowed and attempted to steady it: "I--if--if I ever forget, you will know it as soon as I do--" Her throat seemed to close in a quick, unsteady breath; she halted, both small hands clinched: "_Don't_ talk this way!" she said, exasperated under a rush of sensations utterly incomprehensible--stinging, confused emotions that beat chaotic time to the clamour of her pulses.

"Why d-do you speak of such things ?" she repeated with a fierce little indrawn breath--"why do you ?--when you know--when I said--explained everything ?" She looked at him fearfully: "You are somehow spoiling our friendship," she said; "and I don't exactly know how you are doing it, but something of the comfort of it is being taken away from me--and don't! don't! don't do it!" She covered her eyes with her clinched hands, stood a moment, motionless; then her arms dropped, and she turned sharply with a gesture which left him standing there and walked rapidly across the beach to the pavilion.
After a little while he followed, pursuing his way very leisurely to his own quarters.

Half an hour later when she emerged with her maid, Selwyn was not waiting for her as usual; and, scarcely understanding that she was finding an excuse for lingering, she stood for ten minutes on the step of the Orchils' touring-car, talking to Gladys about the lantern fete and dance to be given that night at Hitherwood House.
Evidently Selwyn had already gone home.