"You are wondering, I suppose," she said, looking up at me quickly, "what has brought me back again so soon."
"I certainly did not expect you," I admitted.
She rose abruptly.
"Come outside," she said, "and I will show you. Bring your hat."
We passed into the March twilight. She led the way down the cliff and towards the great silent stretch of salt marshes. An evening wind, sharp with brine, was blowing in from the ocean, stirring the surface of the long creeks into silent ripples, and bending landwards the thin streaks of white smoke rising amongst the red-tiled roofs of the village. I felt the delicate sting of it upon my cheeks. Lady Angela half closed her eyes as she turned her face seawards.
"I came for this," she murmured. "There is nothing like it anywhere else."
We stood there in silence for several long minutes. Then she turned to me with a little sigh.
"I am content," she said. "Will you come up and dine with us to-night?
Blenavon will be there, you know." I hesitated.
"I am afraid it is rather a bother to you to leave your work," she continued, "but I am not offering you idle hospitality. I really want you to come."
"In that case," I answered, "of course I shall be delighted."