isive and clear-cut about him, but he was
conspicuously gentle, and even deprecating in manner. He greeted Father
Payne smilingly, and shook hands with me, with a courteous little bow. We
strolled a little in the garden. Father Payne did most of the talking, but
Gladwin's silence was sympathetic and impressive. He listened to us
tolerantly, as a man might listen to the prattle of children.

"What are you doing just now?" said Father Payne after a pause.

"Oh, nothing worth mentioning," said Gladwin softly. "I work more slowly
than ever, I believe. It can hardly be called work, indeed. In fact, I want
to consult you about a few little bits--they can hardly be called anything
so definite as 'pieces'--but I am in doubt about their arrangement. The
placing of independent pieces is such a difficulty to me, you know! One
must secure some sort of a progression!"

"Ah, I shall enjoy that," said Father Payne. "But you won't take my advice,
you know--you never do!"

"Oh, don't say that," said Gladwin. "Of course one must be ultimately
responsible. It can't be otherwise. But I always respect your judgment. You
always help me to the materials, at all events, for a decision!"

Father Payne laughed, and said, "Well, I shall be at your service any
time!"

A little while after, Gladwin said he thought he would go to his room. "I
know your ways here," he said to me with a smile; "one mustn't interfere
with a system. Besides I like it! It is such a luxury to obliterate
oneself!" When we met again before dinner, Gladwin walked across to a big
picture, an old sea-piece, rather effectively painted, which Father Payne
had found in a garret, and had had restored and framed.

"What is this?" said Gladwin very gently; "I think this is new?"

Father Payne told him the story of its discovery, adding, "I don't suppose
it is worth much--but it has a certain breeziness about it, I think."

Gladwin considered it in silence, and then turned away.

"Do you like it?" said Father Payne--a little maliciously, I thought.

"Like it?" said Gladwin meditatively, "I don't know that I can go as far as
that! I like it in your house."

Gladwin said very little at dinner. He ate and drank sparingly; and I
noticed that he looked at any dish that was offered him with a quick
scrutinising glance. He tasted his first glass of wine with the same air of
suspense, and then appeared to be relieved from a preoccupation. But he
joined little in the talk, and exe