How bright it was out there in the sunshine, to be sure! And why should it be Carnaby, not he, who was by this time walking along the sea front of Weston, and watching the breeze flutter Robinette’s scarf and bring a brighter colour to her lips?
There! the last words were written, and 134 taking up his bunch of letters, watch in hand, he sought Mrs. de Tracy, and explained that he would bicycle to Weston and catch the London post himself.
“I’ll send William”––she began; but Lavendar hastily assured her that he should enjoy the ride, and hurried off in triumph. Miss Smeardon smiled an acid smile as she watched him go. “He has forgotten all about poor Miss Meredith, I suppose,” she murmured. “Yet it was not so long ago that they were supposed to be all in all to each other!”
“It was a foolish engagement, Miss Smeardon,” said Mrs. de Tracy in a cold voice. “I never thought the girl was suited to Mark, and I understand that old Mr. Lavendar was relieved when the whole thing came to an end.”
“Quite so; certainly; no doubt Miss Meredith would never have made him happy,” said Miss Smeardon at once, “though it is always more agreeable when the lady discovers 135 the fact first. In this case she confessed openly that Mr. Lavendar broke her heart with his indifference.”
“She was an ill-bred young woman,” said Mrs. de Tracy, as if the subject were now closed. “However, I hope that the son of my family solicitor would think it only proper to pay a certain amount of attention to the Admiral’s niece, were she ever so obnoxious to him.”
Miss Smeardon made no audible reply, but her thoughts were to the effect that never was an obnoxious duty performed by any man with a better grace.
The sea front at Weston was the most prosaic scene in the world, a long esplanade with an asphalt path running its full length, and ugly jerrybuilt houses glaring out upon it, a gimcrack pier with a gingerbread sort of band-stand and glass house at the end;––all that could have been done to ruin nature had been determinedly done there. But you cannot ruin a spring day, 136 nor youth, nor the colour of the sea. Along the level shore, the placid waves swept and broke, and then gathered up their white skirts, and retreated to return with the same musical laugh. Children and dogs played about on the wet sands. The wind blew freshly and the sea stretched all one pure blue, till it met on the horizon with the bluer skies.
Weston seemed to Lavendar a very fresh and delightful spot at that moment, although had he been in a different mood its sordidness only would have struck him. Yes, there they were in the distance; he knew Robinette’s white dress and the figure of the boy beside her. Hang that boy! Were they really going to buy hairpins? If so, then a hair-dresser’s he must find. Lavendar turned up the little street that led from the sea-front, scanning all the signs––Boots––Dairies––Vegetable shops––Heavens! were there nothing but vegetable and boot shops in Weston? Boots again. At last a Hairdresser; 137 Lavendar stood in the doorway until he made sure that Robinette and the middy had turned in that direction, and then he boldly entered the shop.
To his horror he found himself confronted by a smiling young woman, whose own very marvellous erection of hair made him think she must be used as an advertisement for the goods she supplied.