Elizabeth, who was aggressively religious, frowned at this remark.  She knew her sister did not mean it.

“What are you going to do this afternoon, Beatrice?” she asked suddenly.  She had seen Owen Davies go up and speak to her sister, and though she had not been near enough to catch the words, scented an assignation from afar.

Beatrice coloured slightly, a fact that escaped neither her sister nor Geoffrey.

“I am going to see Jane Llewellyn,” she answered.  Jane Llewellyn was the crazy little girl whose tale has been told.  Up to that moment Beatrice had no idea of going to see her, but she knew that Elizabeth would not follow her there, because the child could not endure Elizabeth.

“Oh, I thought that perhaps you were going out walking.”

“I may walk afterwards,” answered Beatrice shortly.

“So there is an assignation,” thought Elizabeth, and a cold gleam of intelligence passed across her face.

Shortly after dinner, Beatrice put on her bonnet and went out.  Ten minutes passed, and Elizabeth did the same.  Then Mr. Granger announced that he was going up to the farm (there was no service till six) to see about the sick cow, and asked Geoffrey if he would like to accompany him.  He said that he might as well, if Effie could come, and, having lit his pipe, they started.

Meanwhile Beatrice went to see the crazy child.  She was not violent to-day, and scarcely knew her.  Before she had been in the house ten minutes, the situation developed itself.

The cottage stood about two-thirds of the way down a straggling street, which was quite empty, for Bryngelly slept after dinner on Sunday.  At the top of this street appeared Elizabeth, a Bible in her hand, as though on district visiting intent.  She looked down the street, and seeing nobody, went for a little walk, then, returning, once more looked down the street.  This time she was rewarded.  The door of the Llewellyns’ cottage opened, and Beatrice appeared.  Instantly Elizabeth withdrew to such a position that she could see without being seen, and, standing as though irresolute, awaited events.  Beatrice turned and took the road that led to the beach.

Then Elizabeth’s irresolution disappeared.  She also turned and took the road to the cliff, walking very fast.  Passing behind the Vicarage, she gained a point where the beach narrowed to a width of not more than fifty yards, and sat down.  Presently she saw a man coming along the sand beneath her, walking quickly.  It was Owen Davies.  She waited and watched.  Seven or eight minutes passed, and a woman in a white dress passed.  It was Beatrice, walking slowly.