After having thus first harried, then effectually baffled the enemy, Miss Palliser started with a swinging stride in pursuit of Mr. Rickman.  He sat alone in an attitude of extreme dejection, on the stones of an unfinished and forsaken jetty that marked the farthest western limit of the esplanade.  Having turned his back on that public rendezvous, he was unaware of Miss Palliser’s approach until she stood beside him.

“Glad to see you out again,” said she.

He sprang to his feet and raised his hat.  At the first sight of his face Miss Palliser had a shrewd idea of the cause and nature of his illness.

“Thank you so much for your kind messages.  I’m all right again, as you see.”

“I see nothing of the sort, as yet.”  She had meant to tell him that it was Lucia who had sent her to inquire; but she thought better of it.

“Oh, well, I ought to get round in this bracing air.”

“Harmouth air,” said Kitty, “is not particularly bracing.  In fact it’s very relaxing.  It probably helped you to break down.”

“Well, I shall be out of it soon, anyway.”  He sighed.  “Miss Palliser, can you tell me if Miss Harden has come back?”

“She came back the day before yesterday.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Yes, I’ve seen her.”

There was a long pause, filled by the insistent clamour of the sea.  His next question was less audible to the outer than to the inner ear.

“How is she?”

Miss Palliser was seldom at a loss for a word; but this time she hesitated.  “She—­she is very plucky.”

There was another and a longer pause in which neither had the courage to look at the other.

“Can I—­Would it be possible for me to see her?”

Miss Palliser did not answer.

“I wouldn’t dream of asking her, except that I’ve got something on my mind.”

“And she—­my dear man, she’s got everything on her mind.”

“I know.  I—­I want to see her on business.”

Miss Palliser’s lithe figure grew rigid.  She turned on him a look of indignation and contempt.  “Everybody wants to see her on business.  But some of them have had the grace to wait.”

He smiled in the faint tolerant manner of a man so steeped in the bitterness of the situation that no comment on it can add a further sting.

“I can’t wait.  My business hasn’t much to do with me; but it has a great deal to do with Miss Harden.”

She looked at him as he spoke.  Something in his face and in his voice too made her feel that her judgement of him had been unspeakably, unpardonably coarse.

“I beg your pardon,” she said gently.

“Oh don’t.  I’m not surprised that you thought that of me.”

“I didn’t think it.  I don’t quite know what I’m saying.  I’ve spent the last two days trying to keep fools from worrying her.  I hate the people who want to go to her; I hate the people who keep away; I hate them all.  But I’m sorry I spoke like that to you.  You look horribly ill.”