so gallantly till now. He found
himself at the harbor, staring with wild and bloodshot eyes at the
_Proserpine,_ he who, an hour ago, had seen that he had but one thing to
do--to try and forget young Wardlaw's bride. He groaned aloud, and ran
wildly back into the town. He hurried up and down one narrow street,
raging inwardly, like some wild beast in its den.

By-and-by his mood changed, and he hung round a lamp-post and fell to
moaning and lamenting his hard fate and hers.

A policeman came up, took him for a maudlin drunkard, and half-advised,
half-admonished, him to go home.

At that he gave a sort of fierce, despairing snarl and ran into the next
street to be alone.

In this street he found a shop open and lighted, though it was but five
o'clock in the morning. It was a barber's whose customers were working
people. HAIRCUTTING, SIXPENCE. EASY SHAVING, THREEPENCE. HOT COFFEE,
FOURPENCE THE CUP. Seaton's eye fell upon this shop. He looked at it
fixedly a moment from the opposite side of the way and then hurried on.

He turned suddenly and came back. He crossed the road and entered the
shop. The barber was leaning over the stove, removing a can of boiling
water from the fire to the hob. He turned at the sound of Seaton's step
and revealed an ugly countenance, rendered sinister by a squint.

Seaton dropped into a chair and said, "I want my beard taken off."

The man looked at him, if it could be called looking at him, and said
dryly, "Oh, do ye? How much am I to have for that job?"

"You know your own charge."

"Of course I do. Threepence a chin."

"Very well. Be quick then."

"Stop a bit. That is my charge to working folk. I must have something
more off you."

"Very well, man, I'll pay you double."

"My price to you is ten shillings."

"Why, what is that for?" asked Seaton in some alarm; he thought, in his
confusion, the man must have read his heart.

"I'll tell ye why," said the squinting barber. "No, I won't. I'll show
ye." He brought a small mirror and suddenly clapped it before Seaton's
eyes. Seaton started at his own image; wild, ghastly, and the eyes so
bloodshot. The barber chuckled. This start was an extorted compliment to
his own sagacity. "Now wasn't I right?" said he; "did I ought to take the
beard off such a mug as that--for less than ten shillings?"

"I see," groaned Seaton; "you think I have committed some crime. One man
sees me weeping with misery; he calls me a drunkard; another sees