Britannia. "NOW, FROM MY WESTERN CLIFFS THAT FRONT THE DEEP TO WHERE THE WARM PACIFIC WATERS SWEEP AROUND CATHAY AND OLD ZIPANGU'S SHORE, MY COURSE IS CLEAR. WHAT CAN I WISH FOR MORE?"
SOME NOTES AT STARMOUTH.
Ethel Dering has not recognised me yet. Naturally she would not expect to find me being photographed on the beach with such a crew as this—but she will in another instant, unless,—ah, Louise's sunshade! my presence of mind never quite deserts me. There is a slit in the silk—through which I can see Ethel. As soon as she discovers what the excitement is all about, she turns away.... Thank goodness, she is gone! I have saved the situation—but ruined the group ... they are all annoyed with me. I had really no idea Louise looked so plain when out of temper!
As we go back, Alf wants to know whether I noticed that "clipping girl." He means Ethel. Louise says, he "ought to know better than to ask me such things, considering my situation." Agree with Louise.
Evening. I am staying at home; nominally, to work at the Drama (still in very elementary stage) really, to think out the situation. Remember now the Derings have a yacht; they may only have put in here for a day or two—if not, can I avoid being seen by her sooner or later? The mere idea of meeting her when I am with Alf or Ponking, and my Blazer acquaintances, makes me ill. (Not that I need distress myself, for she would probably cut me!) Can't think in Mrs. Surge's little front parlour. I must get out, into the air! Let me see, Louise and her Aunt (and no doubt Ponking and Alf) will be at the Music Hall this evening, as there is a "benefit" with the usual "galaxy of talent." If I keep away from the sands (where I might see Ethel), I shall be safe enough.
Turn into Public Gardens; nobody here just now, except a couple in front, who seem to have quarrelled—at least the lady's voice sounds displeased. Too dark to see, but as I come nearer—is it only my nervous fancy that—? No, I can't be mistaken, that is Ethel speaking now! "Why will you persist in speaking to me?" she is saying, "I don't know you—have the goodness to go away at once." Some impudent scoundrel is annoying her! Didn't know anything could make me so angry. I don't stop to think—before I know where I am, I have knocked the fellow down ... he can't be more surprised than I am! It is all very well—but what is to become of me when he gets up again? He is sure to make a row, and I can't go on knocking him down! Must get Ethel away first, should not like to be pounded into shapelessness before her eyes. "Miss Dering," I say, "you—you had better go on—leave him to me," (it will probably be the other way, though!) "Mr. Coney!" she cries. "Oh, I am so glad!—but don't hurt him any more—please." He is getting up, as well as I can make out in the darkness, I am not likely to hurt him any more ... I wish he would begin, this suspense is very trying. He has begun—to weep bitterly! Never was so surprised in my life; he is too much upset even to swear, simply sits in the gutter boohooing. If he knew how grateful I am to him! However, I tell him sternly to "think himself lucky it is no worse," and leave him to recover.
Must see Ethel safe home after this. She and her father did come in the yacht—they are at the Royal Hotel, and she missed her way and her maid somehow, trying to find a Circulating Library. She really seems pleased to meet me. It is not an original remark—but what a delight it is to listen to the clear fresh tones of a well-bred girl—not that Ethel's voice is anything to me now! She "can't imagine what I find to do in Starmouth,"—then she did not recognise me this afternoon, which is some comfort! I should like to tell her all, but it would be rather uncalled-for just now, perhaps. We talk on general matters, as we used to do. Singular how one can throw off one's troubles for the time—I am actually gay! I can make her laugh, and what a pretty rippling laugh she has! We have reached the Hotel—already!