of the season. A queer mixed-looking lot of people. Oh, well, it had been a day out. Something to break the monotony of day following day. It had been a relief, too, to get away from that sense of tension, that strung-up atmosphere that there had been lately at Gull's Point. It hadn't been Audrey's fault, but Nevile -
Her thoughts broke up abruptly as Ted Latimer plumped himself down on the beach beside her.
“What have you done with Kay?” Mary asked.
Ted replied briefly: “She's been claimed by her legal owner.”
Something in his tone made Mary Aldin sit up. She glanced across the stretch of shining golden sands to where Nevile and Kay were walking by the water's edge. Then she glanced quickly at the man beside her.
She had thought of him as nerveless, as queer, as dangerous, even. Now for the first time she got a glimpse of someone young and hurt. She thought: “He was in love with Kay - really in love with her - and then Nevile came and took her away....”
She said gently: “I hope you are enjoying yourself down here.”
They were conventional words. Mary Aldin seldom used any words but conventional ones - that was her language. But her tone was an offer - for the first time - of friendliness, Ted Latimer responded to it.
“As much, probably, as I should enjoy myself anywhere.” Mary said: “I'm sorry.”
“But you don't care a damn, really! I'm an outsider - and what does it matter what outsiders feel and think?”
She turned her head to look at this bitter and handsome young man.
He returned her look with one of defiance.
She said slowly, as one who makes a discovery: “I see. You don't like us.” He laughed shortly. “Did you expect me to?”
She said thoughtfully: “I suppose, you know, that I did expect just that. One takes, of course, too much for granted. One should be more humble. Yes, it would not have occurred to me that you would not like us. We have tried to make you welcome - as Kay's friend!”
“Yes- as Kay's friend!”
The interruption came with a quick venom.
Mary said with disarming sincerity: “I wish you would tell me - really I wish it -just why you dislike us? What have we done? What is wrong with us?”
Ted Latimer said, with a blistering emphasis on the one word: “Smug!”
“Smug?” Mary queried it without rancour, examining the charge with judicial appraisement.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I see that we could seem like that.”
“You are like that. You take all the good things of life for granted. You're happy and superior in your little roped-off enclosure shut off from the common herd. You look at people like me as though I were one of the animals outside!”
“I'm sorry,” said Mary. “It's true, isn't it?”
“No, not quite. We are stupid, perhaps, and unimaginative - but not malicious. I myself am conventional and superficially, I dare say, what you call smug. But really, you know, I'm quite human inside. I'm very sorry, this minute, because you are unhappy, and I wish I could do something about it.”
“Well - if that's so - it's nice of you.”
There was a pause, then Mary said gently: “Have you always been in love with Kay?”
“Pretty well.”
“And she?”
“I thought so - until Strange came along.”
Mary said gently: “And you're still in love with her?”
“I should think that was obvious.”
After a moment or two, Mary said quietly: “Hadn't you better go away from here?”
“Why should I?”
“Because you are only letting yourself in for more unhappiness.”
He looked at her and laughed.
“You're a nice creature,” he said. “But you don't know much about the animals prowling about outside your little enclosure. Quite a lot of things may happen in the near future.”
“What sort of things?” said Mary sharply. He laughed. “Wait and see.” VIII
When Audrey had dressed she went along the beach and out along a jutting point of rocks, joining Thomas Royde, who was sitting there smoking a pipe,
exactly
Her thoughts broke up abruptly as Ted Latimer plumped himself down on the beach beside her.
“What have you done with Kay?” Mary asked.
Ted replied briefly: “She's been claimed by her legal owner.”
Something in his tone made Mary Aldin sit up. She glanced across the stretch of shining golden sands to where Nevile and Kay were walking by the water's edge. Then she glanced quickly at the man beside her.
She had thought of him as nerveless, as queer, as dangerous, even. Now for the first time she got a glimpse of someone young and hurt. She thought: “He was in love with Kay - really in love with her - and then Nevile came and took her away....”
She said gently: “I hope you are enjoying yourself down here.”
They were conventional words. Mary Aldin seldom used any words but conventional ones - that was her language. But her tone was an offer - for the first time - of friendliness, Ted Latimer responded to it.
“As much, probably, as I should enjoy myself anywhere.” Mary said: “I'm sorry.”
“But you don't care a damn, really! I'm an outsider - and what does it matter what outsiders feel and think?”
She turned her head to look at this bitter and handsome young man.
He returned her look with one of defiance.
She said slowly, as one who makes a discovery: “I see. You don't like us.” He laughed shortly. “Did you expect me to?”
She said thoughtfully: “I suppose, you know, that I did expect just that. One takes, of course, too much for granted. One should be more humble. Yes, it would not have occurred to me that you would not like us. We have tried to make you welcome - as Kay's friend!”
“Yes- as Kay's friend!”
The interruption came with a quick venom.
Mary said with disarming sincerity: “I wish you would tell me - really I wish it -just why you dislike us? What have we done? What is wrong with us?”
Ted Latimer said, with a blistering emphasis on the one word: “Smug!”
“Smug?” Mary queried it without rancour, examining the charge with judicial appraisement.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I see that we could seem like that.”
“You are like that. You take all the good things of life for granted. You're happy and superior in your little roped-off enclosure shut off from the common herd. You look at people like me as though I were one of the animals outside!”
“I'm sorry,” said Mary. “It's true, isn't it?”
“No, not quite. We are stupid, perhaps, and unimaginative - but not malicious. I myself am conventional and superficially, I dare say, what you call smug. But really, you know, I'm quite human inside. I'm very sorry, this minute, because you are unhappy, and I wish I could do something about it.”
“Well - if that's so - it's nice of you.”
There was a pause, then Mary said gently: “Have you always been in love with Kay?”
“Pretty well.”
“And she?”
“I thought so - until Strange came along.”
Mary said gently: “And you're still in love with her?”
“I should think that was obvious.”
After a moment or two, Mary said quietly: “Hadn't you better go away from here?”
“Why should I?”
“Because you are only letting yourself in for more unhappiness.”
He looked at her and laughed.
“You're a nice creature,” he said. “But you don't know much about the animals prowling about outside your little enclosure. Quite a lot of things may happen in the near future.”
“What sort of things?” said Mary sharply. He laughed. “Wait and see.” VIII
When Audrey had dressed she went along the beach and out along a jutting point of rocks, joining Thomas Royde, who was sitting there smoking a pipe,
exactly
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