"They seem to enjoy life," observed Claud.
"Yes, indeed; and what makes it so fascinating is the assurance one always has of there being a solid foundation under all that fun. Many girls with twice their social advantages have not one half their fresh enjoyment."
"I believe you are right," was the answer, with a sigh which did not escape the other.
"We must not moralise," said the master of Lower House, briskly. "The day is dull, but don't let us follow its example. Would you care to walk to Edge Willoughby, take tea, and make your adieux?"
"Thanks—yes—I think I should. They have been most hospitable."
"Take a mackintosh," said Mr. Fowler, who had been surveying the threatening horizon; "we are going to have a bad night, I believe."
As he spoke, a ray of sunset light, darting through a rift in the watery sky, fell on a gleaming white sail some distance out at sea. It recalled to Claud his walk home to Poole with Wynifred.
"A yacht, a cutter," said his companion, with anxious interest. "She will never be able to make Lyme harbor to-night."
They watched the flashing thing for a minute or two in silence; then the rainy gleam faded from the sea, and the sail became again invisible.
They set off for Edge Willoughby, a short ten minutes walk.