Trevor flushed. He had a way of looking annoyed at times, and he looked annoyed now. His silken chains sometimes fretted him a great deal. He often wondered whether he had done right in allowing himself to become Mrs. Aylmer's adopted son. Bertha, however, gave him a warning glance, and he said nothing.
Presently dinner was over, and Bertha beckoned to him to join her on the balcony.
"Shall we go out on the sands?" she said. "I have something I want to say to you."
"But Mrs. Aylmer has something to say to me also—something about that particularly nice girl, Miss Florence Aylmer."
"She will not say it to you to-night; she has a headache, and I persuaded her to go early to bed. I quite sympathise with you, too, about Florence; she is one of my greatest friends."
Trevor gave Bertha a grateful glance.
"I am so glad you like her," he said. "I was never yet mistaken about anyone, and I took to her frank ways. She looks like the sort of girl who will never deceive you."
Bertha gave a peculiar smile, which vanished almost as soon as it visited her face.
"Shall we meet, say, in twenty minutes," she said, "just by the pier? I must see Mrs. Aylmer to bed; but I can join you then."
"Very well," he answered.