“I cannot think of her in London,” said John Derringham.  “Did she like it, do you think?  And was she changed?”

“Yes, very changed,” Cora answered, and made her voice casual.  “She looked as if the joy of life had fled forever, and as if she were just getting through the time.  Perhaps she hated being with her step-family—­people often do.”

Then she glanced at him stealthily as he stared out at the sea, while she thought:  “I am sure some awful tragedy is here underneath; it is not only his broken ankle and his illness that has made him such a wreck.  I wish I could help them.  I would not care a snap for Cis, who is a rattlesnake if she wants something.”

“When was it, exactly, you saw her?” John Derringham asked.  “But perhaps you don’t remember the date?”

“Yes, I do,” Cora responded quickly.  “It was the day your engagement was announced in the papers, because we spoke about it.”

“Did you?” he said, and drew in his breath a little.  “And what did you say?”

“Just the usual things—­how fortunate you were.  And Halcyone said you were clever and great.”

John Derringham did not answer for a moment.  This stunned him.  Then he replied, very low, “That was good of her,” and Cora noticed that even with the fresh wind blowing in his face he had grown very pale.

“Cis writes you are going to be married at the beginning of October,” she said, to change the conversation.  “I do hope you will be awfully happy.  It is so exquisite to be in love, isn’t it?  I adore being engaged!”

But John Derringham could not bear this—­the two things were so widely severed in his case.  He did not answer, and Cora saw, although his face remained unmoved, that pain grew deep in his eyes.

“Mr. Derringham,” she said, “I am going to say something indiscreet and perhaps in frightful taste—­but I am so happy I can’t bear to think that possibly others are not quite.  I know Cis awfully well—­her character, I mean.  Is there anything I can do for you?”

John Derringham turned with a chillingly haughty glance intended to wither, but when he saw her sweet face full of frank sympathy and kindness, it touched him and his manner changed.

“We have each of us to fulfill our fates,” he said.  “I suppose we each deserve what we receive, and I am so glad yours seems to be such a very happy one.”

Then he made some excuse to get up and leave her—­he could bear no more.

And Cora, left alone, smiled sadly to herself while she reflected what a foolish thing pride was, and all the other shams which robbed life of the only thing really worth having.

“Well, I should not let any of that nonsense ever stand between Freynie and me, thank goodness!” she concluded.