: MISS BADSWORTH, M.F.H. 19^ 



" Anyway, I shall stop in the neighbourhood of Cranston 

 and see fairplay," Bickersdyke said, with the confidence of 

 one whom whisky had emboldened. 



Mrs. Barlow couldn't deny herself another shot ; Bickers- 

 dyke's self-confidence aggravated her. 



" I suppose Mr. Morgan has a niceish little place up there 

 from what I hear," she said. 



Why Victor had regarded Jack Morgan as an impecunious 

 person he didn't know ; he couldn't tell now whether Mrs. 

 Barlow was right or wrong. 



" But it won't compare with Cranston," he replied. " Cran- 

 ston's worth over eight thousand a year." 



" Well, let be how it will, Mr. Bickersdyke, I would turn 

 over that new leaf, if I were you." 



Mrs. Barlow had the advantage of a retreat on the excuse 

 of some household duty, of which she promptly availed her- 

 self. 



Bickersdyke stated his belief that she was right, and had 

 his glass refilled in order to consider the best manner in 

 which the reform could be carried out. At closing time he 

 staggered home as usual, with a vague idea that he had 

 formed a " gooish reslushin ". 



The steamy mist of a summer's dawn was rolling slowly 

 landward from the rocky inlet entitled Tordon Bay before an 

 easterly draught of air. There must have been a thick fog 

 in the Channel, for every two minutes the mournful hoot of 

 the siren at the lighthouse four miles away boomed its 

 warning in reply to some steamer whose skipper was evi- 

 dently anxious to know where he was, or to make others 

 aware of his own proximity. The men on the beach of the 

 cove making ready to launch their boats in order to haul their 

 lobster pots, were unanimously of opinion that the weather 

 would be fine and the day hot. The sound of their voices 

 came up to the higher ground clear and distinct, together 

 with the swish of the rising tide upon the shingle. 



The veil was lifted slowly, and fold after fold retreated 



13 



