Her face haunted him--its brilliant, queenly beauty, the dark, radiant eyes.

Come what might, Hugh Fernely said to himself, he must see her again.
On the following morning he saw the girls return to the cliff.

Lillian finished her picture.

Ever and anon he heard Beatrice singing, in a low, rich voice, a song that had charmed her with its weird beauty: "For men must work, and women must weep; And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep And goodbye to the bar and its moaning." "I like those words, Lillian," he heard her say.

"I wonder how soon it will be 'over' for me.