But Magdalen had drawn back gravely and resolutely, and had engaged Wentworth's attention, and Fay had been obliged to go alone across the lawn, in the direction of the deck chair.
Her step, lagging and irresolute, was hardly audible on the grass, but Michael heard it, recognised it.

We never forget the footfall, however light, that has trodden on our heart.
The footfall stopped and he opened his eyes.
Fay was standing before him.
And so they met again at last, those two who had been lovers once.

She looked long at the man she had broken.

He was worn down to the last verge of exhaustion, barely more than a shadow in the suave sunshine.
She would hardly have recognised him if it had not been for the tranquil steady eyes, and the grave smile.

They were all that was left of him, of the Michael she had known.