“It sounds like a motor-car,” Johnny said, as if he had made a discovery.

“Then it must have lost its way,” Julia answered, giving all her attention to her cabbage plants.

Johnny said “Yes.”  It certainly seemed likely enough; the ubiquitous motor-car went everywhere certainly; even, it was possible to imagine, to remote and uninteresting Halgrave.  But along the ill-kept sandy road which led to White’s Cottage and nowhere else, none had been yet, nor was it in the least likely that one would ever come except by accident.

The sounds drew nearer.  “It certainly is coming this way,” the Captain said; “I will go and explain the mistake to the people.”

The Captain went to the gate; but he did not stop there, nor did he explain anything.  His eyesight, never having been subjected to strain or over work, was good, and the car, owing to the loose nature of the road, was not coming very fast; he saw it had only one occupant, a man who seemed familiar to him.  For a second the Captain stared, then he turned and went into the house in surprising haste.  He had not the least idea what had brought this man here; indeed, when he came to think about it, he was sure it must have been some mistake about the road.  But he had no desire to explain; he felt he was not the person to do so, seeing that the last (and first) time he had seen the man was in an unpleasant interview at Marbridge.  He connected several painful things, humiliation, undeserved epithets, and so on, with that interview and with the face of Rawson-Clew.  Accordingly, he went into the house and waited, and the car came nearer and stopped.

Johnny and Julia went on with their work; they imagined the Captain was talking to the strangers; they had no idea of his discreet withdrawal until Julia came round the corner of the house to fetch a trowel, and saw Rawson-Clew coming up the path.

Julia’s first feeling was blank amazement, but being a Polkington, and being that before she took to the simple life and its honest ways, she allowed nothing more than polite surprise to appear.

“Why!” she said, “I had no idea you were anywhere near here.”

“I had no idea that you were until recently,” he returned.

She wondered how recently; if it was this minute when chance brought her for the trowel—­very likely it was, and he was here by accident.

“Have you lost your way?” she inquired.

“Not to-day.”

“Where were you trying to go?”

“White’s Cottage.”

“Oh!” she said.  He did not look amused, but she felt as if he were, and clearly it was not accident that had brought him.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked.  “There are not many people who could have told you.  I have retired, you know.”

He settled his eyeglass carefully in the way she remembered, and looked first at the cottage and then at her.  “I observe the retirement,” he said; “but the corduroy?”