“Mr. Graeme!” she said, in a voice which very fully expressed her own doubts as to his reality also.

“Mar—­Miss Brandt? ...  Is it possible?”

They had both drawn nearer, he along the broad gravel walk, she along the narrow path between the eucalyptus trees.

“Are you quite sure you are real?” he asked breathlessly, and for answer she laughed and stretched a friendly hand towards him.

He took it with shining eyes, and then bent suddenly and kissed it gently, and his eyes were shining still more brightly as she drew it hastily away.

“But whatever brings you here?” she asked abruptly.

“We’re just out of the sea,”—­and the joy of the sea and the morning, and this greatest thing of all, was in his face.

“But why are you here?  What are you doing here?”

“Doing?  We’re living here.”

“Did you know I was here?  How——?” she began, with a puzzled wrinkle of the fair white brow, and stopped.

“I did not know.  I wish I had.”

“If you did not know, how—­why——?”

“If I had known perhaps I should not have dared to follow you.  On the whole I’m glad I did not know.”

“I don’t understand....  How long have you been here?”

“Just four weeks,” he said, with a smile at thought of the blackness of those four weeks now that he stood in the sunshine.

“Four weeks!  Then you mean—­you mean that I—­that we—­followed——­”

“In the mere matter of time, yes!—­and of place too,” he laughed.”  For you turned me out of my rooms.”

“Do you mean to say you are the Bogey-Man?”

“Well,—­no one ever called me so to my face before, but I’m bound to say I’ve felt uncommonly like one for the past four or five weeks.”

“Come with me,” she said hastily.  “I must put this right at once, or Hennie——­” and she turned and went through the gap in the hedge.

“Put what right?” he asked, as he followed.

“Oh—­you,” she said hastily.

“I’m all right—­now.  And who is Hennie?”

“My friend Miss Penny—­”

“I beg your pardon.  I thought you said Hennie.”

“Henrietta Penny.  She was at school with me.  We are taking care of one another.”

They had come to the forecourt of the cottage.

“Hen!” cried Margaret.  The window was wide open, but the blind was discreetly down.

“Hello, Chum!” came back in muffled tones.  “What’s up now?  Been and got yourself lost again?”

“Come out, dear.  I want you.”

“Half a jiff, old girl.  Give a fellow a chance with his back hair.  You had first tub this morning, remember.”  At which Graeme’s eyes twinkled in unison with Margaret’s.

“There’s a gentleman waiting to see you, dear,” said Margaret, to prevent any further revelations.

“A what?”—­and there followed a clatter of falling implements as though a sudden start had sent them flying.  “Wretch!—­to upset one like that!  It’s that big brown dog, I suppose.  I know you, my child!”