It was with considerable difficulty that he responded to Nick’s airy nothings during the half-hour that followed, and the unusual alacrity with which he seized upon his host’s suggestion that he might care to see the garden, testified to his relief at being released from the obligation of doing so.

They went out together on to the wide lawn and sauntered down to a summer-house on the edge of the cliff, overlooking the whole mighty expanse of sea.  It lay dreaming in the sunlight, with hardly a ripple upon the long white beach below.  And here they came upon Muriel and Olga, sitting side by side on the grass.

Olga had just finished pulling a daisy to pieces.  She tossed it away at Nick’s approach, and sprang to meet him.

“It’s very disappointing,” she declared.  “It’s the fourth time I’ve done it, and it always comes the same.  I’ve been making the daisies tell Muriel’s fortune, and it always comes to ’He would if he could, but he can’t.’  You try this time, Nick.”

“All right.  You hold the daisy,” said Nick.

Muriel looked up with a slightly heightened colour.  “I think we ought to be going,” she remarked.

“We have just ordered the horses for four o’clock,” Grange said apologetically.

She glanced at the watch on her wrist—­half-past three.  Nick, seated cross-legged on the grass in front of her, had already, with Olga’s able assistance, begun his game.

Swiftly the tiny petals fell from his fingers.  He was very intent, and in spite of herself Muriel became intent too, held by a most unaccountable fascination.  So handicapped was he that he could not even pull a flower to pieces without assistance.  And yet—­

Suddenly he looked across at her.  “He loves her!” he announced.

“Oh, Nick!” exclaimed Olga reproachfully.  “You cheated!  You pulled off two!”

“He usually does cheat,” Muriel observed, plucking a flower of grass and regarding it with absorption.

“So do you,” retorted Nick unexpectedly.

“I!” She looked at him in amazement.  “What do you mean?”

“I sha’n’t tell you,” he returned, “because you know, or you would know if you took the trouble to find out.  Grange, I wish you would give me a light.  Hullo, Olga, there’s a hawk!  See him?  Straight above that cedar!”

All turned to look at the dark shape of the bird hovering in mid-air.  Seconds passed.  Suddenly there was a flashing, downward swoop, and the sky was empty.

Olga exclaimed, and Nick sent up a wild whoop of applause.  Muriel gave a great start and glanced at him.  For a single instant his look met hers; then with a sick shudder, she turned aside.

“You are cold,” said Grange.

Yes, she was cold.  It was as if an icy hand had closed upon her heart.  As from an immense distance, she heard Olga’s voice of protest.

“Oh, Nick, how can you cheer?”

And his careless reply.  “My good child, don’t grudge the poor creature his dinner.  Even a bird of prey must live.  Come along!  We’ll go in to tea.  Muriel is cold.”