“That’s Garry,” said Constance calmly, belting in her chamber-robe of silk and twisting up her hair into one heavy lustrous knot.

A moment later they had exchanged salutes and, holding both his hands in hers, she stood looking at him, golden brown eyes very tender, cheeks becomingly pink.

“That miserable train is early; it happens once in a century.  I meant to meet you, dear.”

“Wayward met me at the station,” he said.

There was a silence; under his curious and significant gaze she flushed, then laughed.

“Wayward said that you had something to tell me,” he added....  “Constance, is it—­”

“Yes.”

“You darling!” he whispered, taking her into his arms.  And she laid her face on his shoulder, crying a little, laughing a little.

“After all these years, Garry—­all these years!  It is a long time to—­to care for a man—­a long, long time....  But there never was any other—­not even through that dreadful period—­”

“I know.”

“Yes, you know....  I have cared for him since I was a little girl.”

They stood a while talking tenderly, intimately of her new happiness and of the new man, Wayward.

Both knew that he must bear his scars for ever, that youth had died in him.  But they were very confident and happy standing there together in the sunlight which poured into the room, transfiguring her.  And she truly seemed as lovely, radiant, and youthful as her own young heart, unsullied, innocent, now, as when it yielded its first love so long ago amid the rosewood and brocades of the old-time parlour where the sun fell across the faded roses of the carpet.

“I knew it was so from the way he shook hands,” said Hamil, smiling.  “How well he looks, Constance!  And as for you—­you are a real beauty!”

“You don’t think so!  But say it, Garry....  And now I think I had better retire and complete this unceremonious toilet....  And you may stroll over to pay your respects to Mrs. Cardross in the meanwhile if you choose.”

He looked at her gravely.  She nodded.  “They all know you are due to-day.”

“Shiela?”

“Yes....  Be careful, Garry; she is very young after all....  I think—­if I were you—­I would not even seem conscious that she had been ill—­that anything had happened to interrupt your friendship.  She is very sensitive, very deeply sensible of the dreadful mistake she made, and, somehow, I think she is a little afraid of you, as though you might possibly think less of her—­Heaven knows what ideas the young conjure to worry themselves and those they care for!”

She laughed, kissed him and bowed him out; and he went away to bathe and change into cool clothing of white serge.

Later as he passed through the gardens, a white oleander blossom fell, and he picked it up and drew it through his coat.

Shadows of palm and palmetto stretched westward across the white shell road, striping his path; early sunlight crinkled the lagoon; the little wild ducks steered fearlessly inshore, peering up at him with bright golden-irised eyes; mullet jumped heavily, tumbling back into the water with splashes that echoed through the morning stillness.