Ahead of me the rocks jutted out almost to the water, shutting me in the little bay which was known as -Polhorgan’s Cove. I guessed it would take me longer to reach Pendorric this way than by the road, so I started westwards immediately. It was not easy rounding the jagged rocks; there were so many to be climbed, and interesting little pools to be leaped over. I came to a large rock which actually did jut into the sea. It was rather difficult getting over that one, but I managed it; and then I saw our own beach, our garden, far less grand than that of Polhorgan, but perhaps as beautiful in its wild state.

I leaped on to the soft sand, and as I did so I heard the sound of laughter.

Then I saw them. She was half lying on the sand, her face propped up by her hands, and he was stretched out beside her leaning on one elbow. He looked as dark as he had when I had first seen him sitting in the studio with my father.

They were talking animatedly, and I thought uneasily: They wouldn’t have expected to see me here suddenly. I wanted them to know quickly that I was close by. Perhaps I was afraid that if I did not make my presence known I might hear or see something which I did not want to.

I called out: “Hallo.” Roc sprang to his feet and for a few seconds stared at me; then he came running towards me, taking both my hands in his. ” Look who’s here! I thought you were still at the Folly.”

” I hope I didn’t startle you.”

He put his arm round me and laughed.

“In the most pleasant way,” he said.

We walked over to Althea Grey, who remained where she was on the sand.

Her blue eyes, fixed on me, seemed shrewd and alert.

“Is everything all right at Polhorgan?” she asked. I told her what had happened, and she got up.

“I’d better get back,” she said.

“Come up to Pendorric,” said Roc, “and I’ll drive you there.” She looked up at the steep garden, to the grey walls of Pen dorric and shook her head.

“I don’t think it would be any quicker, I’ll go over the rocks.” She turned to me.

“I’ve done it so often, I’m becoming like a mountain goat. See you later,” she added, and started to hurry across the sand.

” You look shaken,” said Roc. ” I believe the old man often has those attacks. He’s been having them for years. Pity it happened when you were alone with him.”

We opened the gate and started the climb through the garden to the house.

” What made you come the beach way?” asked Roc.

“I don’t know. Perhaps because it was a way I hadn’t been before and as I was leaving a little early I thought I’d try it. Is Althea Grey a great friend of … tile family?”

” Not of the family.”

“Only of you?”

” You know what a friendly type I am!”

He caught me to him and hugged me. Questions were on my lips but I hesitated. I didn’t want him to think I was going to be foolishly jealous every time he spoke to another woman. I had to remember I had married a Pendorric and they were noted for their gallantries.

” Do you often meet on the beach?”

” This is a small place. One is always running up against neighbours.”

” I wonder why she preferred our beach to Polhorgan.”

” Ah, from Pendorric beach you can look up at real antiquity ; from Polhorgan you only get the fake.”

” It’s a very beautiful fake.”

” I believe you’re getting very fond of his lordship.” He regarded me ironically: ” Ought I to be jealous?”

I laughed, but I felt almost as uneasy as I had when I had come into the cove and seen them lying there together. Was he trying to turn the tables, as guilty people often did? Was he saying: You spend your afternoon with Lord Polhorgan, so why shouldn’t I spend mine with his nurse?

It was an incongruous suggestion, but he went on; “I should be very jealous, so you mustn’t provoke me.”

“I hope you will remember to do unto others as you would they should do unto you.”

” But you would never be jealous without reason. You’re far too sensible.”

” Yet I suppose it would be more reasonable to be jealous of a beautiful young woman than a sick old man.”

” Often in these matters there are other factors to be considered besides personal charms.”

“Such as?”

” You don’t find millionaires lurking on every rock and patch of sand.”

” What a hideous suggestion!”

“Isn’t it? And I’m a beast to mention such mundane matters as money; but then, as you once said, I am a satyr, which is a form of beast, I suppose. Actually I fancied you were not very pleased to come upon Thea and me together and I wanted to tell you how ridiculous you were to be . not very pleased. “

” You’re not hinting that you’d rather I didn’t visit Lord Polhorgan?”

“Good heavens, no! I’m delighted that you do. Poor old man, he’s only just beginning to realise that his millions can’t buy him all he wants. He’s getting more pleasure out of having a beautiful young woman to pour his tea and hover over his ivory chessmen than he’s had for years. And all without paying out, a penny! It’s a revelation to him. It reminds me of Little Lord Fauntelroy, the terror of my youth because I was forced to read of his adventures by a well-meaning nurse. I found him particularly nauseating—perhaps because he was the opposite of myself. I could never see myself in plum-coloured velvet with my golden curls falling over my lace collar going to soften the hard heart’ of dear old Lord Somebody, Fauntelroy, I believe … old Fauntelroy. That was one thing I could never do—bring warring relations together by my childish charm.”

” Stop it. Roc. Do you really object to my visits to Polhorgan?” He picked one of the Mrs. Simkins pinks that grew in rather untidy clumps, filling the air with their delicious scent, and ‘gravely put it into the buttonhole of my short linen jacket.

” I’ve been talking a lot of nonsense because I’m garrulous by nature.

Darling, I want you to feel absolutely free. As for visiting Lord Polhorgan, don’t for heaven’s sake stop. I’m glad you’re able to give him so much pleasure. I know he ruined our east view with his monstrosity, but he’s an old man and he’s sick. Go as often as he asks you. “

He leaned forward to smell the pink; then he kissed my lips. He took my hand and we climbed to the house.

As usual he had the power to make me accept what he wanted to; it was only when I was alone that I asked myself:

Does he want me to visit Lord Polhorgan so that Althea Grey is free to be with him?

I went down to the kitchen one morning to find Mrs. Penhalligan at the table kneading dough, and there was the delicious smell of baking bread in the air.

The kitchens at Pendorric were enormous, and in spite of electric cookers, refrigerators and other recently installed modern equipment, looked as though they belonged to another age. There were several rooms—a bake house a buttery, a washhouse and another room called the dairy which had a floor of blue tiles and had once been a storeroom for milk, butter, eggs and such. Across the ceiling were great oak beams supplied with hooks on which joints of meat, hams, sides of bacon and Christmas puddings had once hung.

The kitchen itself, though large, was a cosy room with its red-tiled floor and dressers, its refectory table at which generations of servants had had their meals and the wooden one scrubbed white at which, on this occasion, Mrs. Penhalligan was working. Through an open door I could see Maria preparing vegetables in the wash house Mrs. Penhalligan bridled with pleasure when she saw me. I said: “Good morning, Mrs. Penhalligan. I thought it was about time I paid a visit to the kitchens.”

” It’s good to see you, ma’am,” she answered.

” Is that bread baking? It smells delicious.”

She looked pleased. ” We’ve always baked our own bread at Pendorric.

There’s nothing like the home-baked, I always say. I bake for Father at the same time. It’s always been understood. “

” How is your father?”

” Oh, fair to middling, ma’am. Don’t get no younger but he be wonderful for his age. He’ll be ninety next Candlemas.”

” Ninety!

That’s a great age. “

” And there bain’t much wrong with him … ‘cept of course his great affliction.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t know, ma’am, and I reckon none as yet thought fit to tell you. Father went blind … oh—it’ll be nigh on thirty years ago.

No. I bain’t telling you the truth. It’ll be twenty-eight years. It started . twenty-eight years come harvest time. “

” I’m very sorry.”

” Oh, don’ tee be. Father bain’t sorry for himself. He’s happy enough with his pipe and all he wants to eat. He likes to sit at the door on sunny days and it ‘ud astonish you, ma’am, how good his hearing is. Sort of makes up for not having his sight, so it seems.”

” I expect I’ll see him some time.”

” He’d be real pleased if you stopped and had a little chat with him.

He’s always asking about Mr. Roc’s new bride. “

” I’ll look for him.”

” You can’t make no mistake. It’s the second of the cottages down Pendorric Village. Lives all alone there. Independent since Mother went. But Maria and me, we’re always in and out. And we pop over with a plate of hot something for his dinner regular as clockwork. He don’t pay no rent, and he’s got his bit of pension. Father’s all right. He’d be wonderful … if he had his sight.”

I was glad Mrs. Penhalligan was the loquacious type, be cause I had been wondering what I should say to her.

” I’ve been hearing about how your family have been at Pendorric for generations.”

“Oh yes … always Pleydells at Pendorric. But then Father and Mother didn’t have no son. I was their only daughter. Then I married Penhalligan, who was gardener here till he died. And we only had one too—my Maria. She’ll be working here till the end … and then that’ll be the end of the Pleydells at Pendorric.”