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the stage. Tony and Phillipa exclaimed in delight at finding the mist entirely gone. Giles was amazed. He had been there for over ten minutes and had not even noticed this simple fact. Miriam had so imposed herself and her mysterious problem upon him that he had been for those minutes quite oblivious of his surroundings. It was uncanny. It was also humiliating and dangerous.
    â€œI wouldn’t trust it,” Henry said. “When the fog goes suddenly like this with a change of wind, it usually means bad weather coming in from the Atlantic.”
    â€œIt cleared yesterday,” said Tony, “in the afternoon. Just like this.”
    â€œThe forecast wasn’t too bright this morning, though,” Giles reminded him. “It mentioned a depression. And the glass had gone down several pips when we came ashore.”
    Henry was looking down river, towards the hard.
    â€œI see they are making their boats fast to the wall,” he said.
    â€œThat means they are expecting a blow. They will not be going out today, even now it has cleared.”
    â€œ Bad weather?” said Phillipa, incredulously, looking round at the summer scene.
    â€œWell, we’d better get back on board,” Giles said, briskly. “Get the next shipping forecast at one-forty.”
    They all said goodbye to the Davenports, thanked them for their hospitality, and went out along the stage. Giles called back, “Don’t let Susan be late. We want to start up river between five and six.”
    Seeing blank faces he explained, “She’s coming along for the trip up to Tréguier.”
    Henry nodded and turned away, but Miriam moved towards the dinghy.
    â€œShe must have forgotten,” she said, slowly and distinctly. “She promised to drive me to Paimpol this afternoon. I don’t drive, unfortunately. I’m afraid she won’t be able to come.”
    â€œShe promised to come!” Giles spoke with a boyish emphasis that made Phillipa smile.
    â€œWhat a pity,” Miriam answered. Then, with a smile and a wave of her hand she followed her husband into the shelter of the trees.
    â€œDamnation!” said Giles. On the way out to Shuna in the dinghy he did not speak another word.
    Clouds blew up from the west during the afternoon, putting out the sun. The forecast had been depressing; the fine weather was leaving them. Tony and Phillipa waited for the skipper’s word to go up river, but he spent the time on deck, morose and silent, and tea came and went, and still no orders were given.
    â€œI’ll have to think about what to make for dinner, if we go on waiting,” suggested Phillipa.
    â€œIf we’re waiting for Susan to show up, Giles will be disappointed. Mrs. Davenport was about as likely to part with her as a steel trap.”
    â€œShe’s a queer creature,” said Phillipa. “Odd her turning up at the landing-stage with Giles. She must have beetled down another of their forest paths. On purpose to have him to herself, do you think?”
    â€œStop building scandal. I’ll get the skipper down for a conference.”
    Giles went below reluctantly. He still hoped that Susan would come, but he knew that it was an unreasonable hope. Miriam had decided that. She was not going to let the girl enjoy a trip she was not herself invited to share. That was the old Miriam; the selfish, self-absorbed Miriam, who must be at the centre of every project. She had not changed at all, it seemed, in her desires. But was her power undimmed? Could she still impose her will on everyone about her, as she had done in the old days? Was Susan not young enough, and independent enough, in a matter-of-fact, take it for granted, modern fashion, to withstand the emotional tyranny of her cousin’s wife? Or would she submit meekly, agree to drive Miriam to Paimpol? A false engagement, surely, invented on the spot, or the girl would have told him of it when he asked her to join them on