These thoughts were running persistently in her mind as she moved along the edge of the stream.  It was a day in the end of May, fragrant with many perfumes, crystallized with spring sunshine—­such a day as she would have revelled in only last year.  Only last year!  How many things had happened since then!  She was almost afraid to think.

There came the sound of feet on the drive above, and a cracked voice hailed her.  “Hullo, Olga mia!  How are you amusing yourself?”

She looked up with a smile.  Last year she would have sprung to meet him; but she seemed to have outgrown all her impulsiveness lately.  She moved to meet him indeed, but he was at her side before she had moved a couple of yards.

He caught her hand in his, and drew her to the water’s edge.  His eyes flickered over her and went beyond.

“Hullo!  There goes the green dragon-fly!” he said.

She looked round startled.  “Oh, Nick, where?”

“Gone away!” said Nick unconcernedly.  “He’ll come back again, I’ll wager.  What’s the programme for this morning, kiddie?  Anything special?”

“Nothing,” said Olga.

Again rapidly his eyes comprehended her.  “I’m going up to the Priory myself,” he announced unexpectedly.  “Care to come?”

She started again, coloured, then went very white.  “I—­don’t know, Nick,” she faltered.

“Might as well, dear,” said Nick persuasively.  “There’s no one there.  Did I tell you about the landslip?  There was a bad one last February, and the old place is beginning to crack in all directions.  It’s been condemned as unsafe, and Campion is going to clear out bag and baggage.  He hasn’t lived there, you know, since last summer.  They’ve taken to travelling.  Wouldn’t you like to come and see it once more before it is dismantled?”

Olga was standing very still.  She did not seem to be breathing; only the hand Nick had taken vibrated in his hold.

“Don’t come if you don’t like!” he said.  “But it’s your last chance.  They are going to start clearing it to-morrow.  I’ve got to go myself to fetch poor old Cork.  You remember Cork?  Campion has handed him over to me.”

Yes, Olga remembered Cork.  She drew in a deep breath and spoke.  “Dear old dog!  I’m glad you are going to have him.  Yes, Nick, I’ll come.  But is the place really doomed?  What will happen to it?”

“It will probably fall in first,” said Nick, “and the next big landslide it will go over the cliff.”

“How—­dreadful!” said Olga, and added half to herself, “Violet was wondering only that morning if she would—­would—­live to see it.”

“Ah!” said Nick.  He was leading her through the glen that led down to the shore.  “It was bound to happen some time,” he said, “but they didn’t think it would be so soon.”

Olga went with him as one moving in a dream, submitting though not of her own conscious volition.

Nick said no more.  He had chosen the shortest route, and his main object was to accomplish the distance without disturbing her thoughts.