A night in June brings to the mind of most people soft airs the scent of roses a time when the young can sit out-of-doors in the moonlight, and the middle-aged may venture forth without risk of catching cold. But even on such a night in Thorhaven there is a nipping freshness at sunset which keeps the mind alert instead of lulling the senses giving an exquisite clearness to the thoughts of lovers: at any rate, to the thoughts of lovers like Laura Temple.

But visitors did not realize this, only remarking to each other with disapproval that it was much colder than in Flodmouth, and that you always needed a thick coat in the evening at Thorhaven, whatever the time of year. At the present moment, however, most of them were hurrying away from the wide expanse of shore and sea that glimmered under the reflection of the sunset, for dancing was to start at half-past eight in the glass hall which filled the centre of the promenade.

The girl in charge of the pay-box was busier than usual, and Caroline stood at a little distance taking a professional interest in the number of tickets sold. Her first feeling of importance had worn off, but she had the correct official air of detachment, glancing at the throng which hurried through the barrier with a sort of indulgent superiority, while the band under the glass roof of the hall tootled faintly against the deep roll of the waves. The immensity of the arched sky above, with the dim, flat land on one side, and the expanse of darkening sea on the other, seemed to give to those dance tunes an indescribable melancholy. They seemed to epitomize all the shortness and futility of the little lives which had flickered for a few years on the edge of that sea and then gone out.

Not that Caroline thought of this, being a normal, healthy girl, but a shadow of the thought fell across her bright path and she shivered slightly, drawing her coat closer round her throat. “Come on,” she said, turning to Wilf, who stood near waiting for her. “That band gives me the pip, hearing it from the outside. You want something louder than that near the sea.”

“Well, you had the steam roundabouts on Bank Holiday, and you didn’t like that,” said Wilf cheerfully. “Some folks are never satisfied.”

“Look!” said Caroline. “There’s that friend of Miss Laura Temple’s.”

Wilf turned to watch a group coming through the barrier. They were young people from some of the larger houses that had been built to accommodate business people from Flodmouth, but evidently not of the sort that desires constant gaiety, or they would not have lived in Thorhaven. Now they had made up a little party to come and dance in the promenade hall, with the simple object of enjoying a fair floor and a band that played in tune.

As they passed Wilf and Caroline, one said eagerly to the other: “Where’s Laura Temple? I don’t see anything of her. She and Godfrey Wilson were to have waited here for us.”

“Oh, didn’t you know? Got a sore throat and can’t

They went on, and Caroline breathed again. She had never thought of Laura being at a dance on the promenade, and the sudden idea of meeting the original owner of the flame-coloured dress gave her a little shock. The whole situation, as it might have been, opened out in front of her for a moment or two, bristling with unpleasantnesses, and she glanced down at the edge of colour appearing under her coat with a distinct regret that she had been persuaded by Mrs. Creddle into wearing the dress. Better far to have stopped at home.

Then there was Wilf, taking her arm with cool possessiveness. “Come on, Carrie! I aren’t going to stop here all night while you think over your sins.” He laughed and the two girls standing near him laughed too not that they felt amused, but because laughter was the accepted accompaniment to such conversations.

So they went along together under the first star that hung high in the green sky, and the Flamborough light trembled across the water just as they entered the hot and crowded hall. The spectators mostly middle-aged sat in a solid phalanx round the sides of the room doing knitting or crochet, hoping against hope to see other folks make fools of themselves, or afford a spectacle of some sort that might be worth watching.

Already several couples were whirling round on the polished floor, and Caroline, who had come bare-headed, took off her coat at once, placed it in a corner with Wilf’s hat, and swung out into the dance. At first Wilf and she were only conscious of being looked at and anxious to do their steps with credit, but after a little while Wilf became agreeably conscious that people were interested in them. He held his partner more jauntily and redoubled his attention to the dance, occasionally whispering some sally into Caroline’s ear to show how much at ease he was, and how dashingly he could “carry it off.”

Caroline on her part now felt an exhilarated conviction that her own appearance in the flame-coloured dress was the source of attraction; and every time she passed a certain place where a dark screen hung behind the glass, she glanced at a revolving vision of excited eyes and glowing draperies.

The low rays of the sinking sun struck through the glass panes on the western side of the hall and mingled with the gas, which was already turned on, to create a sort of strange half-light in which nobody seemed quite real. The couples swam round and round in this peculiar radiance, while the heavy figures watching appeared to recede and grow more dense.

The music ceased and they stood still, breathing quickly, hemmed in by a large group of people. After a while Caroline suddenly felt a touch on her shoulder from behind. “I say, Laura, I thought you were not” And she turned round sharply to see Wilson with outstretched arm peering between heads. “Oh,” he exclaimed “so sorry! I took you for Miss Temple. I only caught a glimpse of your dress.”

“It’s all right,” said Caroline abruptly, crimson to the roots of her hair. Then the music started again and she seized hold of Wilf’s arm. “Come along! We don’t want to lose any of this.”

Wilson was left behind among a group who were not dancing at the moment, but gradually they moved away and he stood there alone, steady on his feet almost impressively self-reliant and sure of himself, though he was neither tall nor handsome. As he stood idly looking on, he began to notice the flame-coloured dress which had been Laura’s flashing in and out of the more sober garments. It displayed a good deal of Caroline’s figure, which was slim and clean made something like a Tanagra statuette, but less curved. He found himself watching for her every time as she came round, and finally a thought darted across his mind a nymph on fire. Why! he chuckled softly to himself, pleased by the apt phrase and feeling clever that was what it was, by gad! But where on earth had she got a gown exactly like the one which had suited Laura so badly?

When the music stopped he moved from his place and walked straight up to Caroline. “I must apologize for having touched you on the arm, but I only caught a glimpse of your dress through the crowd,” he said, “and at first I thought you were Miss Temple. She has a dress exactly like the one you are wearing.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” repeated Caroline, beginning to move off. Then she suddenly stopped short. After all, he would get to know. She was not going to look as if she were ashamed of what she had done. “It is the same dress,” she said, throwing up her head with a jerk, as she did when she was defiant. “Miss Temple gave it to my aunt, Mrs. Creddle, and I’m wearing it because Aunt burnt a frock of mine.”

“Lucky thing she did,” said Wilson easily. “I can’t quite see Mrs. Creddle in this gown at least, if she is the lady I have encountered at Miss Wilson’s.”

“Ha! ha!” laughed Wilf, feeling he owed it to his own dignity to assert himself and join in somehow, but finding a difficulty in beginning.

“Miss Temple didn’t mean it to be worn. It was to make best frocks for the little ones or something like that,” said Caroline. “But I shan’t wear it again, so they’ll have the benefit of it all the same.”

“Well, I’m sure the original wearer would be delighted if she could see you in it,” said Wilson.

“Just what I say,” put in Wilf, seizing his chance. “Never saw Carrie look better. She’ll be immensely grateful to Miss Temple for the loan of it, of course. Wonderful how the ladies can come to the rescue of each other. Now, we men it’s a queer thing, Mr. Wilson, when you come to think of it, but I don’t suppose there’s two pairs of legs alike in this hall.”

“No?” said Wilson interestedly. “Well, I believe you are right. It is strange what things can be discovered about life by keeping one’s eyes open. I daresay you don’t let much escape yours.”

“Oh, I don’t go about with them shut, of course,” said Wilf modestly. “But I’m like that. It’s no credit to me. Always was from a kid.”

Wilson glanced round, letting his gaze pass over the little party from the new villas with whom he was fairly well acquainted, then he turned to Wilf. “I don’t seem to see many people I know here. I wonder if you would mind my having a turn with Miss Creddle?” he said. “That is, if she does not object.”

“My name isn’t Creddle; it’s Raby,” said Caroline.

“Oh, I don’t mind. I’ll console myself somehow just for one dance,” said Wilf grandly, for he was feeling greatly flattered first by being regarded as Caroline’s keeper, and also by the deferential attitude of this older man who had reached the place in life where he would like to be.

“Will you be so kind, Miss Raby?” said Wilson.

So Caroline, unable to refuse, allowed him to put his arm round her and guide her out into the moving throng. After the first moment or two when she was entirely engrossed in feeling annoyed with Wilf, she began to experience a most peculiar and yet agreeable sensation as if she need not trouble about anything in the whole world ever any more. She remained aware of the music, of the many-coloured throng going round and round in the last rays of the sunset which mingled so strangely with the artificial light from the roof of the hall still she seemed to be carried along apart from it all; to be enclosed by something which emanated from the man who held her, and which isolated them both. Once or twice he made some trivial remark, but nothing to need thinking about; and when the music stopped she felt for a second or two a sort of dizziness like coming too suddenly out of a dim room into a bright sunlight.

“I must have met you somewhere before,” he was saying. “I am sure I remember your face.”

“Yes.” She felt the odd dizziness leaving her. With an effort she forced herself to become alert and keen again. “I expect you’ve seen me collecting tickets. I and another girl take it in turns.”

“Ah! That must be what I am thinking of,” he said. But he searched his mind in vain for the recollection of a girl at that little window in the pay-box who could by any magic of clothes and swaying steps be transformed even for five minutes into a nymph on fire.

But Wilf came up and he had to let her go felt, indeed, no particular desire to detain her; for Caroline greeted her admirer with such real relief that he had no doubt of her feelings. She just caught hold of Wilf’s arm and began at once to move in time to the music, while that gratified young man nodded jauntily over her shoulder to Wilson and sailed off, thinking himself very grown-up and experienced and important a man with a female for whom he was responsible one of the initiate.

Almost immediately after that Wilson went away, but it was three hours later before Caroline and Wilf, having danced their fill, emerged into the coolness of the midnight air. As they walked down the dim promenade together, Wilf was still talking about Wilson. “Some chaps say he is so stand-offish, but I always hold that people treat you as you treat them. And if the fellows say anything of the sort to me in the train, to-morrow, I shall just tell them they’re wrong. Most pleasant, he can be, when he likes.”

“Why shouldn’t he be?” said Caroline. “You’re as good as he is.”

“I know that, but I haven’t got what he has. You don’t understand the world yet, Carrie, my dear,” he said largely. “I tell you, that man can smell when there’s going to be land in the market, if there’s anything to be made out of it. Sort of second smell. Ha! ha!”

Carrie laughed. “Go on! You really are a one, Wilf!” But her encouraging laughter was a veil to hide her thoughts the old veil used a thousand thousand times since life and love began.

“Look here, Carrie,” Wilf began again, suddenly serious. “What man has done, man can do. I didn’t mean to tell you yet, but I will.” He lowered his voice, glancing round at the calm immensity of the moonlight night lest any one should hear him. “If I go on as I am doing, I shall be worth five thousand pounds before I die.”

Carrie clutched his arm, looking into the smooth, boyish face so near her own, with its young curves and sharpnesses made wistful by the moonlight. She did not know why, but was suddenly filled with a sort of aching, protective pity when she heard those words mingling with the sound of the sea. It was Wilfs youngness and littleness in the face of that immensity. Five thousand pounds before I die! And the sea beating on the shore just the same

But out of it all, the only words she found were: “I know you will, Wilf. You’ll do more than that. Look how your governor spoke about your shorthand last week.”

“And that brings me,” continued Wilf, growing more and more solemn and important, “to what I really want to say. I’m going to get the ring to-morrow, Carrie, so you’d better lend me that old one of your mother’s you have on, for a measure. I aren’t going to ask you what stones you’d like, because I shall get diamonds. A dress ring without diamonds is nothing, and I mean my wife to have the best.”

“Diamonds! Oh, Wilf!” said Carrie. But the first glow of surprise and pleasure passed almost before it was there. “Wife!” She didn’t want that. She wasn’t ready for that. “Don’t think of such a thing. We can’t be married for years and years. Besides, I don’t want a ring. It it hasn’t got so far, yet. We have always been friends, but when it comes to settling down together for life –­”

He swung round. “What on earth do you mean?” he demanded. “Are you keeping a loophole open to throw me over for somebody else?”

“No, no!” she said. “I have never thought of anybody else. I couldn’t imagine myself going with anybody but you. Only I don’t want to be tied yet. I want to feel free a bit longer.”

“Is that all?” he said, then began to grow angry owing to a reaction from his fright. “A nice fool you would make me look if you turned me down now. I suppose you don’t realize that my friends in the train just wink at each other when they ask me to go anywhere of an evening, knowing I shan’t go. Then one chap funny chap he is always says, ‘How’s the C.R. doing?’ You mayn’t know where the joke comes in, but C.R. stands for a railway as well as Carrie Raby. And after all that, I’m to be played fast and loose with. It’s carrying things a bit too far. I don’t say I agree with the times when men clubbed girls over the head and brought them home like that, but I will say the pendulum has swung too far. A girl can’t have a boy of her own and be as free as if she hadn’t. I don’t know what you think you want, Carrie.”

“I’ve no wish to be horrid, I’m sure,” said Caroline. “I do think it is most awfully kind and generous of you to want to give me a ring. But I feel as if I would rather not have one.”

“Well, have it your own way, of course. Only I can’t make all this out,” said Wilf. “If you didn’t fancy me for a husband you might have found out before. You’ve had plenty of time.”

“But I never did think of you as a husband, somehow,” said Caroline. “We began to walk out together like boys and girls do, and it has gone on. I don’t say I shall never feel different. I can’t picture myself ever wanting to go with anybody but you. Only there it is.” She paused, looking out to sea, and the wash of the waves brought back to some degree those feelings which she had experienced when he talked about the five thousand pounds. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings, Wilf. I’m sure I didn’t want to. I only wanted to be straight with you.”

“Well, we’ll let it pass,” said Wilf. “Girls have all sorts of funny feelings we don’t have, I expect; and a lot would have taken the ring first and talked afterwards. I like a girl to be straight.”

But he did not. He was at the stage when what he most wanted from the female sex was a sugared insincerity which looked like crude candour and independence. And as they walked on again, though they were linked together, she certainly appeared less desirable to him than she had done when she was circling round the hall in Wilson’s arms with her bright draperies glowing between the gaslight and the sunset.

When they had said farewell at the gate of the Cottage garden and he stood waiting until he heard Caroline safely open the front door, these discontents grew more active still. Here he was, seeing her home, and making no objection, though some one had actually said in his hearing that she was Miss Wilson’s maid-servant. He had not told her this from feelings of delicacy, but he began to think that delicacy was rather wasted on her, and determined to do so at the next opportunity.

Caroline opened the door softly and was creeping up the old stairs which creaked at every step, when Miss Ethel peered out of her bedroom and caught a glimpse of flame colour beneath the open coat.

“Good night, Miss Ethel,” said Caroline cheerfully.

For a moment Miss Ethel could not bring words over her lips. That Ellen’s niece should return thus at midnight, opening the house door with a latch-key, while she, herself, condoned it, though she disapproved as violently as ever. She felt a sort of tingling shame and resentment like a fighter who has to retreat, as she said in a muffled tone: “Good night, Caroline.”