"Is it?"

"Or I think so," Jenny added.

"What a line of footmarks there'll be when he's gone past," said May.

"It is a man," Jenny asserted.

Suddenly she went dead white, flushed crimson, whitened again and dropped the half-strung necklace of shells.

"I believe I know him, too," she murmured.

"Shut up," scoffed May. "Unless it's Fuz?"

"No, it's not him. May, I'd like to be alone when he comes along. Or I don't think I'll stay. Yes, I will. And no, don't go. You stay, too. It is him. It is."

Maurice approached them. He gave much the same impression as on the first night of the ballet of Cupid, when at the end of the court he raised his hat to Jenny and Irene.

"I—I wondered if I should meet you," he said.