She sailed with Adwen, leaning quickly to handle the dinghy, she ate lobster teas with him, and drank cider in the dark little saloon bar of the Spanish Inn. At Tremawvan no one questioned what she did with her time. Belle had never troubled about her, and Craig, working late these evenings, was seldom inquisitive about the happenings of the day. Sometimes Brownie would notice the new brightness in her face and observe a little dryly that it was a change to find a young girl so content with the simple pleasures of the countryside, but only Zachary suspected that Tina’s days were not always spent alone.“Best have a care, m’dear,” he said to her one morning “Tongues wag in country places.”“But I’m not doing anything wrong,” she protested and he shook his head, observing her with melancholy Cornish reticence.“Maybe not, but maister wouldn’t be pleased.”For the first time Tina experienced a faint feeling of guilt. She had not tried to keep her meetings with Adwen secret but also she had made no effort to disclose what she was doing.“You can tell him if you like, Zachary,”
