represented at the Beach by a telegram instead; increasingly bored by
the desolate air of the all but empty hostelry. "When's the next train
out of this hell-hole?"--such was Mr. Canning's last recorded remark up
to this not uninteresting moment.
Kerr, when he saw Mrs. and Miss Heth over the distance, merely made a
genial exclamation, and then gazed. He was nearing forty, was Willie,
short and slightly bald, with an increasing appreciation of the world's
good things and as much good nature as his round figure called for.
Canning's acquaintance he had by the chance of a lifelong friendship
with Mrs. Allison Payne. By reason of a native clannishness and certain
small obligations of a more material nature, he was more than ready to
share his privileges with his brilliant cousins. But....
"So that's the drowned lady," said Canning's voice, rather moodily, at
his elbow.... "Well, then, I know her."
"Dandy girl, Carlisle," exclaimed Willie, instantly. "Great little piece
of work...."
One hundred feet away, opportunity unconsciously receded toward the
piazza. Willie, having hesitated through no unfaithfulness, plunged with
no want of tact.
"Got to speak to 'em a minute--make inquiries--cousins, y' know. D' ye
mind?"
"My dear chap, why should I?"
"Awright--just stop and say howdedo," said the plump diplomatist. "Won't
take a minute...."
And Canning, perceiving then that Kerr expected to make this stop in his
company, said with an assurance not unbecoming to his lordly bearing:
"If you please. And don't start anything, for pity's sake. I'm for bed
in fifteen minutes."
So it all fell out, according to the book. So it was that the pursuing
feet were free to thunder. So Mrs. Heth heard the voice of the leal one,
subdued from a distance: "_Howdedo, Cousin Isabel! How're you an'
Carlisle this evening_?..."
And so the maid turned, startled from her other-worldly dreams....
He was the greatest parti that had ever crossed her path, that was ever
likely to cross her path. But Miss Heth faced him with no want of
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