Then a silence fell between them.
The sweet stillness held its sway o'er land and sea, its perfect harmony emphasized by the soft lapping of the waves against the shadowy sands below. The breeze was dying with the dying sun. Just off the shore a little white-sailed cat-boat was drifting in with the flowing tide.
Jean drew a long breath and started swiftly to her feet.
"Why, how late it is growing," she exclaimed. "I must be going, Mr. Farr."
"Already?" he said, and then they made their way down the rugged cliff.
"Take care, Miss Lawrence," he cried, as she missed her footing and slipped a little. "Please let me assist you," and he extended his hand.
Jean put her hand in his with a demure uplifting of her eyebrows, and just a fleeting smile on her lips. There flashed through her mind the thought:
"How unmercifully Nan would chaff me, if she could catch a glimpse of me now."
The descent was a brief one, and soon they had crossed the sands and were strolling along the road in the direction of the manor.
"You are coming to dine with us to-morrow night, are you not, Mr. Farr?"