"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."