She was perfectly dressed for the country, from her square-toed shoes, which still seemed to maintain some distinction of shape, the perfectly tailored coat and skirt, to the smart little felt hat with its single quill.

She walked with the free grace of an athlete, unembarrassed with the difficulties of the way or the gusts which swept across the marshy places, yet not even the strengthening breeze, which as they reached the sea line became almost a gale, seemed to have power to bring even the faintest flush of colour to her cheeks.

They reached the long headland and stood looking out at the sea before she spoke again.
"You were very kind to me last night, Mr.Orden," she said, a little abruptly.
"I paid a debt," he reminded her.
"I suppose there is something in that," she admitted.

"I really believe that that exceedingly unpleasant person with whom I was brought into temporary association would have killed you if I had allowed it." "I am inclined to agree with you," he assented.

"I saw him very hazily, but a more criminal type of countenance I never beheld." "So that we are quits," she ventured.
"With a little debt on my side still to be paid." "Well, there is no telling what demands I may make upon our acquaintance." "Acquaintance ?" he protested.
"Would you like to call it friendship ?" "A very short time ago;" he said deliberately, "even friendship would not have satisfied me." "And now ?" "I dislike mysteries." "Poor me!" she sighed.