Gerald came lagging up with Sheila Minster; but his sister did not ask him whether Selwyn had gone.
Yesterday she would have done so; but to-day had brought to her the strangest sensation of her young life--a sudden and overpowering fear of a friend; and yet, strangest of all, the very friend she feared she was waiting for--contriving to find excuses to wait for.

Surely he could not have finished dressing and have gone.

He had never before done that.

Why did he not come?
It was late; people were leaving the pavilion; victorias and beach-phaetons were trundling off loaded to the water-line with fat dowagers; gay groups passed, hailing her or waving adieux; Drina drove up in her village-cart, calling out: "Are you coming, Eileen, or are you going to walk over?
Hurry up! I'm hungry." "I'll go with you," she said, nodding adieu to Gladys; and she swung off the step and crossed the shell road.
"Jump in," urged the child; "I'm in a dreadful hurry, and Odin can't trot very fast." "I'd prefer to drive slowly," said Miss Erroll in a colourless voice; and seated herself in the village-cart.
"Why must I drive slowly ?" demanded the child.

"I'm hungry; besides, I haven't seen Boots this morning.