It will never be known whether or not James knew that Susan and Posy were going to Weymouth. We do know that Posy met James on the pier, and was much struck by his gentlemanly appearance. It is possible that the young man planned this meeting; it is quite impossible to infer as much from what passed between them. James raised a neat straw hat, and was strolling on, when Posy waved her parasol.
"Are you thinking of cutting me?" she asked, holding out her hand. "What an extraordinary coincidence your being here?"
"Is it?" asked James quietly. "I have been to Weymouth before, have you?"
"No; this is our first visit. Did father tell you we were coming?"
"No." He laughed derisively, as he continued, "Mr. Quinney does not talk to me about you. I can imagine that he might—er—object——"
He paused significantly.
"Object to what?"
"To this. I know my place, Miss Quinney."
He was as humble as Uriah Heep, but more prepossessing in appearance. The sun and wind had tanned his cheeks, his brown hair curled crisply beneath the brim of his smart hat. He wore white shoes and quiet grey "flannels.
"Now that you are here," said Posy, "let us sit down and listen to the band. Mother is writing to father. She writes every day, dear thing! She will turn up presently."