house had seemed to stifle her. She had run out for a breath of air; and then something about that moaning shore had seemed to draw her. She had run down to the parade, and now she paced along it, staring down into the fathomless dark below her where the deep water rose and fell with a ceaseless moaning, thumping the well beneath in sullen impotence.
There was no splash of waves, only that dumb striving against a power it could not overthrow. It was like her own mute rebellion, she thought to herself miserably, as persistent and as futile.
She reached the end of the parade. The hour was late; the place deserted. There was a shelter here. She was sure it would be empty, but it did not attract her. She wanted to get as close as possible to that moaning, mysterious waste of water. It held a stark fascination for her. It drew her like a magnet. She stood on the very edge of the parade, facing the drift of rain that blew in from the sea. How dark it was! The nearest lamp was fifty yards away! The thought came to her suddenly, taking form from the formless deep: how easy to take one single false step in that darkness! How swift the consequence, and how complete the deliverance!
A short, inevitable struggle in the dark-in the dark; and then a certain release from this hateful chain called life. It would be terrible, but so quickly over! And this misery that so galled her would be for ever past.
She beat her foot on the edge with a passionate impatience. What a fool she was to suffer so-when there was nothing (never had been any thing) in life worth living for!
Nothing? Well, yes, there was Bunny. She was an absolute necessity to him. That she knew. She was firmly convinced that he would die without her. And though he would be far, far happier dead, poor darling, she couldn't leave him to die alone.
She lifted her clenched hands above her head in straining impotence. For one black moment she almost wished that Bunny were dead.
And then very suddenly, with staggering unexpectedness she received the biggest shock of her life. Two hands closed simultaneously upon her wrists, and she was drawn into two encircling arms.
She uttered a startled outcry, and in the same moment began a wild and flurried struggle for freedom. But the arms that held her closed like steel springs. A man's strength forced her steadily away from the yawning blackness that stretched beyond the parade.
"It's no good kicking," a soft voice said. "You won't get away."
Something in the voice reassured her. She ceased to struggle. "Oh, let me go!" she said breathlessly. "You-you don't understand. I-I-only-"
"Came out for a breath of air?" he suggested. "Of course-I gathered that."
He took his arms away from her, but he still kept one of her wrists in a strong grasp. She could not see his face in the darkness, only his figure, which was short and stoutly built.
"Do you know," he said, "when people take the air like that, I always have to hold on to 'em tight till they've had all they want. It's damn' cheek on my part, as you were just going to remark. But, my girl, it's easier than mucking about in a dark sea looking for 'em after they've lost their balance."
He had led her to the shelter. She sat down rather helplessly, wondering if it would be possible to conceal her identity from him since it was evident that so far he had not recognized her.
He stood in front of her, squarely planted, his hand still locked upon her wrist. She had known him from the first word he had spoken, and, remembering those startling lynx eyes of his, she felt decidedly uneasy. She was sure they could see in the dark.
She spoke after a moment with slight hesitation. "I shouldn't have lost my balance. And if I had meant to jump over, as you imagined, I shouldn't have stood so long thinking about it."
"Sure you're not thinking about it now?" he said.
"Quite sure," she answered.
He bent down, and she was sure-quite sure-that his eyes scrutinized her and took in every detail.
The next moment he released her wrist also. "All right, my girl," he said. "I believe you. But-don't do it again! Accidents happen, you know. You might have had one then; and I should still have had to flounder around looking for you."
Something in his tone made her want to smile, and yet she felt so sure-so sure-that he knew her all the time. And she wanted to resent his familiarity at the same moment. For if he knew her, it was rank presumption to address her so.
She rose at length and faced him with such dignity as she could muster. "I am obliged to you," she said, "but I fail to see why your responsibility should extend so far. If I had fallen over, the chances are that you could never have found me-or saved me if you had."
"Ninety-nine to one!" he said coolly. "But, do you know, I rather count on the hundredth chance. I've taken it-and won on it-before now."
He was not to be disconcerted, it was evident. He was plainly a difficult man to rout, one accustomed to keep his head in any emergency. And she-she was but a slip of a girl in his estimation, and he had her at a disadvantage already.
She felt her face begin to burn in the darkness. She shifted her ground. "I don't see why anyone should be made to live against his will," she said, "why it should be anyone's business to interfere."
"That's because you're young," he said. "You haven't yet got the proper hang of things. It only comes with practice-that."
Her face burned more hotly. He was actually patronizing her!
She turned abruptly. "Good evening," she said, and began to walk away.
But he fell in beside her at once. "I'm going your way," he observed. "May as well see you past the bar of 'The Anchor.' They get a bit lively there sometimes at this end of the day."
He walked with the slight roll of a man accustomed to much riding. She imagined that he never appeared in anything but breeches and gaiters. But his tread was firm and purposeful. Quite obviously it never entered his head that she might not desire his company.
For that reason she had to submit to the arrangement though she felt herself grow more and more rigid as they neared the circle of light cast by the street-lamp. Of course he was bound to recognize her now.
But they reached and passed the lamp, and he tramped straight ahead without looking at her, after the square fashion that she had somehow begun to associate with him.
They reached and passed "The Anchor" also, with its lighted bar and coarse voices and lounging figures. They began the steep ascent up which he had pushed Bunny that afternoon. It was dark enough here at least, and her self-confidence began to revive. She would put him to the test. She would pass the gate that he had seen her enter earlier in the day. If he displayed surprise or hesitation she would know that he had recognized her.
But yet again he baffled her. He tramped steadily on.
She began to get a little breathless. There was another lamp at the top of the road. She did not want to reach that.
In desperation she paused. "Good evening!" she said again.
He stopped at once, and she thought she caught the glitter of his eye, seeking her own in the darkness.
"You're going in now?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
He came a step nearer, and laid one finger on her arm. "Look here, my girl! You take a straight tip from me!
