Adam Johnstones Son | Page 7

house. Clare
Bowring had been watching the two, and she looked after the man as he
moved rapidly away. He walked well, for he was a singularly
well-made young fellow, who looked as though he were master of
every inch of himself. She had liked his brown face and bright blue
eyes, too, and somehow she resented the way in which the little lady
ordered him about. She looked round and saw that her mother was
watching him too. Then, as he disappeared, they both looked at the lady.
She too had followed him with her eyes, and as she turned her face
sideways to the Bowrings Clare thought that she was biting her lip, as
though something annoyed her or hurt her. She kept her eyes on the
door. Presently the young man reappeared, bearing a palm-leaf fan in
his hand and blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke into the air. Instantly
the lady smiled, and the smile brightened as he came near.
"Thank you--dear," she said as he gave her the fan.
The last word was spoken in a lower tone, and could certainly not have
been heard by the other members of the party, but it reached Clare's
ears, where she sat.

"Not at all," answered the young man quietly.
But as he spoke he glanced quickly about him, and his eyes met Clare's.
She fancied that she saw a look of startled annoyance in them, and he
coloured a little under his tan. He had a very manly face, square and
strong. He bent down a little and said something in a low voice. The
lady in white half turned her head, impatiently, but did not look quite
round. Clare saw, however, that her expression had changed again, and
that the smile was gone.
"If I don't care, why should you?" were the next words Clare heard,
spoken impatiently and petulantly.
The man who answered to the name of Brook said nothing, but sat
down on the parapet of the terrace, looking out over his shoulder to
seaward. A few seconds later he threw away his half-smoked cigarette.
"I like this place," said the lady in white, quite audibly. "I think I shall
send on board for my things and stay here."
The young man started as though he had been struck, and faced her in
silence. He could not help seeing Clare Bowring beyond her.
"I'm going indoors, mother," said the young girl, rising rather abruptly.
"I'm sure it must be time for tea. Won't you come too?"
The young man did not answer his companion's remark, but turned his
face away again and looked seaward, listening to the retreating
footsteps of the two ladies.
On the threshold of the hotel Clare felt a strong desire to look back
again and see whether he had moved, but she was ashamed of it and
went in, holding her head high and looking straight before her.
CHAPTER II
The people from the yacht belonged to that class of men and women
whose uncertainty, or indifference, about the future leads them to take

possession of all they can lay hands on in the present, with a view to
squeezing the world like a lemon for such enjoyment as it may yield.
So long as they tarried at the old hotel, it was their private property.
The Bowrings were forgotten; the two English old maids had no
existence; the Russian invalid got no more hot water for his tea; the
plain but obstinately inquiring German family could get no more
information; even the quiet young French couple--a honeymoon
couple--sank into insignificance. The only protest came from an
American, whose wife was ill and never appeared, and who staggered
the landlord by asking what he would sell the whole place for on
condition of vacating the premises before dinner.
"They will be gone before dinner," the proprietor answered.
But they did not go. When it was already late somebody saw the moon
rise, almost full, and suggested that the moonlight would be very fine,
and that it would be amusing to dine at the hotel table and spend the
evening on the terrace and go on board late.
"I shall," said the little lady in white serge, "whatever the rest of you do.
Brook! Send somebody on board to get a lot of cloaks and shawls and
things. I am sure it is going to be cold. Don't go away! I want you to
take me for a walk before dinner, so as to be nice and hungry, you
know."
For some reason or other, several of the party laughed, and from their
tone one might have guessed that they were in the habit of laughing, or
were expected to laugh, at the lady's speeches. And every one agreed
that it would