of　the　sea；　and　the　white…winged　gulls　flew　out　to　meet　them。
  Almost　he　expected　them　to　turn　into　spirits；　circling　round　Malvina
  with　cries　of　welcome。
  Nearer　and　nearer　they　drew；　while　gradually　the　mist　rose　upward　as
  the　moonlight　grew　fainter。　　And　all　at　once　the　sweep　of　the　Chesil
  Bank　stood　out　before　them；　with　Weymouth　sheltering　behind　it。
  It　may　have　been　the　bathing…machines；　or　the　gasometer　beyond　the
  railway　station；　or　the　flag　above　the　Royal　Hotel。　　The　curtains　of
  the　night　fell　suddenly　away　from　him。　　The　workaday　world　came
  knocking　at　the　door。
  He　looked　at　his　watch。　　It　was　a　little　after　four。　　He　had　wired
  them　at　the　camp　to　expect　him　in　the　morning。　　They　would　be
  looking　out　for　him。　　By　continuing　his　course　he　and　Malvina　could
  be　there　about　breakfast…time。　　He　could　introduce　her　to　the
  colonel：　　〃Allow　me；　Colonel　Goodyer；　the　fairy　Malvina。〃　　It　was
  either　that　or　dropping　Malvina　somewhere　between　Weymouth　and
  Farnborough。　　He　decided；　without　much　consideration；　that　this
  latter　course　would　be　preferable。　　But　where？　　What　was　he　to　do
  with　her？　　There　was　Aunt　Emily。　　Hadn't　she　said　something　about
  wanting　a　French　governess　for　Georgina？　　True；　Malvina's　French　was
  a　trifle　old…fashioned　in　form；　but　her　accent　was　charming。　　And　as
  for　salary…　　There　presented　itself　the　thought　of　Uncle　Felix　and
  the　three　elder　boys。　　Instinctively　he　felt　that　Malvina　would　not
  be　Aunt　Emily's　idea。　　His　father；　had　the　dear　old　gentleman　been
  alive；　would　have　been　a　safe　refuge。　　They　had　always　understood
  one　another；　he　and　his　father。　　But　his　mother！　　He　was　not　at　all
  sure。　　He　visualised　the　scene：　　the　drawing…room　at　Chester
  Terrace。　　His　mother's　soft；　rustling　entrance。　　Her　affectionate
  but　well…bred　greeting。　　And　then　the　disconcerting　silence　with
  which　she　would　await　his　explanation　of　Malvina。　　The　fact　that　she
  was　a　fairy　he　would　probably　omit　to　mention。　　Faced　by　his
  mother's　gold…rimmed　pince…nez；　he　did　not　see　himself　insisting
  upon　that　detail：　　〃A　young　lady　I　happened　to　find　asleep　on　a　moor
  in　Brittany。　　And　seeing　it　was　a　fine　night；　and　there　being　just
  room　in　the　machine。　　And　sheI　mean　Iwell；　here　we　are。〃　　There
  would　follow　such　a　painful　silence；　and　then　the　raising　of　the
  delicately　arched　eyebrows：　　〃You　mean；　my　dear　lad；　that　you　have
  allowed　this〃there　would　be　a　slight　hesitation　here〃this　young
  person　to　leave　her　home；　her　people；　her　friends　and　relations　in
  Brittany；　in　order　to　attach　herself　to　you。　　May　I　ask　in　what
  capacity？〃
  For　that　was　precisely　how　it　would　look；　and　not　only　to　his
  mother。　　Suppose　by　a　miracle　it　really　represented　the　facts。
  Suppose　that；　in　spite　of　the　overwhelming　evidence　in　her
  favourof　the　night　and　the　moon　and　the　stars；　and　the　feeling
  that　had　come　to　him　from　the　moment　he　had　kissed　hersuppose
  that；　in　spite　of　all　this；　it　turned　out　that　she　wasn't　a　fairy。
  Suppose　that　suggestion　of　vulgar　Common　Sense；　that　she　was　just　a
  little　minx　that　had　run　away　from　home；　had　really　hit　the　mark。
  Suppose　inquiries　were　already　on　foot。　　A　hundred　horse…power
  aeroplane　does　not　go　about　unnoticed。　　Wasn't　there　a　law　about
  this　sort　of　thingsomething　about　〃decoying〃　and　〃young　girls〃？
  He　hadn't　〃decoyed〃　her。　　If　anything；　it　was　the　other　way　about。
  But　would　her　consent　be　a　valid　defence？　　How　old　was　she？　　That
  would　be　the　question。　　In　reality　he　supposed　about　a　thousand
  years　or　so。　　Possibly　more。　　Unfortunately；　she　didn't　look　it。　　A
  coldly　suspicious　magistrate　would　probably　consider　sixteen　a　much
  better　guess。　　Quite　possibly　he　was　going　to　get　into　a　devil　of　a
  mess　over　this　business。　　He　cast　a　glance　behind　him。　　Malvina
  responded　with　her　changeless　smile　of　ineffable　content。　　For　the
  first　time　it　caused　him　a　distinct　feeling　of　irritation。
  They　were　almost　over　Weymouth　by　this　time。　　He　could　read　plainly
  the　advertisement　posters　outside　the　cinema　theatre　facing　the
  esplanade：　　〃Wilkins　and　the　Mermaid。　　Comic　Drama。〃　　There　was　a
  picture　of　the　lady　combing　her　hair；　also　of　Wilkins；　a　stoutish
  gentleman　in　striped　bathing　costume。
  That　mad　impulse　that　had　come　to　him　with　the　first　breath　of　dawn；
  to　shake　the　dwindling　world　from　his　pinions；　to　plunge　upward
  towards　the　stars　never　to　returnhe　wished　to　Heaven　he　had
  yielded　to　it。
  And　then　suddenly　there　leapt　to　him　the　thought　of　Cousin
  Christopher。
  Dear　old　Cousin　Christopher；　fifty…eight　and　a　bachelor。　　Why　had　it
  not　occurred　to　him　before？　　Out　of　the　sky　there　appeared　to
  Commander　Raffleton　the　vision　of　〃Cousin　Christopher〃　as　a　plump；
  rubicund　angel　in　a　panama　hat　and　a　pepper…and…salt　tweed　suit
  holding　out　a　lifebelt。　　Cousin　Christopher　would　take　to　Malvina　as
  some　motherly　hen　to　an　orphaned　duckling。　　A　fairy　discovered
  asleep　beside　one　of　the　ancient　menhirs　of　Brittany。　　His　only　fear
  would　be　that　you　might　want　to　take　her　away　before　he　had　written
  a　paper　about　her。　　He　would　be　down　from　Oxford　at　his　cottage。
  Commander　Raffleton　could　not　for　the　moment　remember　the　name　of
  the　village。　　It　would　come　to　him。　　It　was　northwest　of　Newbury。
  You　crossed　Salisbury　Plain　and　made　straight　for　Magdalen　Tower。
  The　Downs　reached　almost　to　the　orchard　gate。　　There　was　a　level
  stretch　of　sward　nearly　half　a　mile　long。　　It　seemed　to　Commander
  Raffleton　that　Cousin　Christopher　had　been　created　and　carefully
  preserved　by　Providence　for　this　particular　job。
  He　was　no　longer　the　moonstruck　youth　of　the　previous　night；　on　whom
  phantasy　and　imagination　could　play　what　pranks　they　chose。　　That
  part　of　him　the　keen；　fresh　morning　air　had　driven　back　into　its
  cell。　　He　was　Commander　Raffleton；　an　eager　and　alert　young　engineer
  with　all　his　wits　about　him。　　At　this　point　that　has　to　be
  remembered。　　Descending　on　a　lonely　reach　of　shore　he　proceeded　to
  again　disturb　Malvina　for　the　purpose　of　extracting　tins。　　He
  expected　his　passenger　would　in　broad　daylight　prove　to　be　a　pretty；
  childish…looking　girl；　somewhat　dishevelled；　with；　maybe；　a　tinge　of
  blue　about　the　nose；　the　natural　result　of　a　three…hours'　flight　at
  fifty　miles　an　hour。　　It　was　with　a　startling　return　of　his　original
  sensations　when　first　she　had　come　to　life　beneath　his　kiss　that　he
  halted　a　few　feet　away　and　stared　at　her。　　The　night　was　gone；　and
  the　silence。　　She　stood　there　facing　the　sunlight；　clad　in　a
  Burberry　overcoat　half　a　dozen　sizes　too　large　for　her。　　Beyond　her
  was　a　row　of　bathing…machines；　and　beyond　that　again　a　gasometer。　　A
  goods　train　half　a　mile　away　was　noisily　shunting　trucks。
  And　yet　the　glamour　was　about　her　still；　something　indescribable　but
  quite　palpablesomething　out　of　which　she　looked　at　you　as　from
  another　world。
  He　took　her　proffered　hand；　and　she　leapt　out　lightly。　　She　was　not
  in　the　least　dishevelled。　　It　seemed　as　if　the　air　must　be　her
  proper　element。　　She　looked　about　her；　interested；　but　not　curious。
  Her　first　thought　was　for　the　machine。
  〃Poor　thing！〃　she　said。　　〃He　must　be　tired。〃
  That　faint　tremor　of　fear　that　had　come　to　him　when　beneath　the
  menhir's　shadow　he　had　watched　the　opening　of　her　eyes；　returned　to
  him。　　It　was　not　an　unpleasant　sensation。　　Rather　it　added　a
  piquancy　to　their　relationship。　　But　it　was　distinctly　real。　　She
  watched　the　feeding　of　the　monster；　and　then　he　came　again　and　stood
  beside　her　on　the　yellow　sands。
  〃England！〃　he　explained　with　a　wave　of　his　hand。　　One　fancies　she
  had　the　impression　that　it　belonged　to　him。　　Graciously　she　repeated
  the　name。　　And　somehow；　as　it　fell　from　her　lips；　it　conjured　up　to
  Commander　Raffleton　a　land　of　wonder　and　romance。
  〃I　have　heard　of　it；〃　she　added。　　〃I　think　I　shall　like　it。〃
  He　answered　that　he　hoped　she　would。　　He　was　deadly　serious　about
  it。　　He　possessed；　generally　speaking；　a　sense　of　humour；　but　for
  the　moment　this　must　have　deserted　him。　　He　told　her　he　was　going　to
  leave　her　in　the　care　of　a　wise　and　learned　man　called　〃Cousin
  Christopher〃；　his　description　no　doubt　suggesting　to　Malvina　a
  friendly　magician。　　He　himself　would　have　to　go　away　for　a　little
  while；　but　would　return。
  It　did　not　seem　to　matter　to　Malvina；　these　minor　details。　　It　was
  evidentthe　idea　in　her　mindthat　he　had　been　appointed　to　her。
  Whether　as　master　or　servant　it　was　less　easy　to　conjecture：
  probably　a　mixture　of　both；　with　preference　towards　the　latter。
  He　mentioned　again　that　he　would　not　be　away　for　longer　than　he
  could　help。　　There　was　no　necessity　for　this　repetition。　　She　wasn't
  doubting　it。
  Weymouth　with　its　bathing　machines　and　its　gasometer　faded　away。
  King　Rufus　was　out　a…hunting　as　they　passed　over　the　New　Forest；　and
  from　Salisbury　Plain；　as　they　looked　down；　the　pixies　waved　their
  hands　and　laughed。　　Later；　they　heard　the　clang　of　the　anvil；
  telling　them　they　were　in　the　neighbourhood　of　Wayland　Smith's　cave；
  and　so　planed　down　sweetly　and　without　a　jar　just　beyond　Cousin
  Christopher's　orchard　gate。
  A　shepherd's　boy　was　whistling　somewhere　upon　the　Downs；　and　in　the
  valley　a　ploughman　had　just　harnessed　his　team；　but　the　village　was
  hidden　from　them　by　the　sweep　of　the　hills；　an