“None.  I’ll take it as it comes:  I’m not afraid.”

They got down to the promenade; the forenoon was now bright and cheerful; a good many folks had come out to enjoy the sunlight and the cool sea-breeze.  Miss Juliott was not at all disinclined to walk there with her handsome cousin, though he had forgotten his gloves and was clearly not paying her very special attention.

“Jue,” he said suddenly, “I can see Miss Rosewarne right at the end of this road:  can’t you?”

“I haven’t got the eyes of a hawk, you stupid boy!” his cousin said.

“Oh, but I can recognize her dress a dozen times as far away.  These are her pet colors at present—­a soft cream-color and black, with bits of dark red.  Can you see now?”

“I never saw you pay the least attention before to a lady’s dress.”

“Because you don’t know how she dresses,” he said proudly.

She was coming along the Parade all alone.

“Well, it is a pretty dress,” Miss Juliott said, “and I like the look of her face, Harry.  You can’t expect one girl to say any more than that of another girl, can you?”

“This is a very nice way of being able to introduce you,” he said.  “I suppose you will be able to chaperon each other afterward, when her mother isn’t able to go out?”

Wenna was coming quietly along, apparently rather preoccupied.  Sometimes she looked out, with her dark, earnest and yet wistful eyes, at the great plain of water quivering in the sunshine:  she paid little heed to the people who went by.  When at length she did see Harry Trelyon, she was quite near him, and she had just time to glance for a moment at his companion.  The next moment—­he could not tell how it all happened—­she passed him with a slight bow of recognition, courteous enough, but nothing more.  There was no especial look of friendliness in her eyes.

He stood there rather bewildered.

“That is about as good as the cut direct, Harry,” his cousin said.  “Come along—­don’t stand there.”

“Oh, but there’s some mistake, Jue,” he said.

“A girl never does a thing of that sort by mistake.  Either she is vexed with you for walking with me—­and that is improbable, for I doubt whether she saw me—­or she thinks the ardor of your acquaintance should be moderated; and there I should agree with her.  You don’t seem so vexed as one might have expected, Harry.”

“Vexed!” he said.  “Why, can’t you tell by that girl’s face that she could do nothing capricious or unkind?  Of course she has a reason; and I will find it out.”

CHAPTER XXV.

NOT THE LAST WORD.

As soon as he could decently leave his cousin at home, he did; and then he walked hastily down to the house in which Mrs. Rosewarne had taken rooms.  Miss Rosewarne was not at home, the small maid-servant said.  Was Mrs. Rosewarne?  Yes; so he would see her.