"You will leave Ravetot-sur-Mer and all its associations, and the brightness of life will drive all the shadows away."
"No. It is impossible. My heart is broken and I only want to stay here at the end of the jetty until I die."
"I shall die, anyhow," I remarked with a shiver, "if I stay here much longer, and I don't want to. Let us go home."
She assented. We walked away from the sea and struck the gloomy inland road. Then I said, somewhat meaningly:
"Haven't you the curiosity to enquire why I left my comfortable house in London to come to this God-forsaken hole?"
"Why did you, Doctor, dear?" she asked listlessly.
"To inform you that your cross old aunt Caroline is dead, that she has left you three thousand pounds a year under my trusteeship till you are five-and-twenty, and that I am going to carry off the rich and beautiful Miss Pauline Widdrington to England to-morrow."
She stood stock-still looking at me open-mouthed.
"Is it true?" she gasped.
"Of course," said I.