This time it was the old gentleman who was speaking, and as he was more discreet than his companion or less under the influence of his feelings, his voice was lower and his words less easy to be distinguished.
"Escape?
South coast--she will forget to watch you for--a clinging nature--impetuous, but foolishly affectionate--you know that--no danger--found out--time--a cheerful home--courage--happiness--all forgotten." A gesture from the young man as he moved away showed that he did not share these hopes.

Meanwhile Miss Butterworth--you surely have recognized Miss Butterworth--had her opportunities too.

She was still stooping over the dog, which wriggled under her hand, yet did not offer to run away, fascinated perhaps by that hesitating touch which he may or may not have known had never inflicted itself upon a dog before.

But her ears, and attention, were turned toward two girls chatting on a bench near her as freely as if they were quite alone on the lawn.

They were gossiping about a fellow-inmate of the big hotel, and Miss Butterworth listened intently after hearing them mention the name Adams.