see the name distinctly: the _Marston Towers_. The same man is on
board of her. The ship arrives at London. The scene closes; another one
forms. The ill-shaped man is sitting with a woman with a beautiful face
--not the same as the photograph."

"What they can see in him I can't think," muttered Mr. Thompson, in an
envious whisper. "He's a perfick terror, and to look at him----"

"They sit hand in hand," continued the astrologer, raising his voice.
"She smiles up at him and gently strokes his head; he----"

A loud smack rang through the room and startled the entire company; Mrs.
Boxer, unable to contain herself any longer, had, so far from profiting
by the example, gone to the other extreme and slapped her husband's head
with hearty good-will. Mr. Boxer sprang raging to his feet, and in the
confusion which ensued the fortune-teller, to the great regret of Mr.
Thompson, upset the contents of the magic bowl.

"I can see no more," he said, sinking hastily into his chair behind the
table as Mr. Boxer advanced upon him.

Mrs. Gimpson pushed her son-in-law aside, and laying a modest fee upon
the table took her daughter's arm and led her out. The Thompsons
followed, and Mr. Boxer, after an irresolute glance in the direction of
the ingenuous Mr. Silver, made his way after them and fell into the rear.
The people in front walked on for some time in silence, and then the
voice of the greatly impressed Mrs. Thompson was heard, to the effect
that if there were only more fortune-tellers in the world there would be
a lot more better men.

Mr. Boxer trotted up to his wife's side. "Look here, Mary," he began.

"Don't you speak to me," said his wife, drawing closer to her mother,
"because I won't answer you."

Mr. Boxer laughed, bitterly. "This is a nice home-coming," he remarked.

He fell to the rear again and walked along raging, his temper by no means
being improved by observing that Mrs. Thompson, doubtless with a firm
belief in the saying that "Evil communications corrupt good manners,"
kept a tight hold of her husband's arm. His position as an outcast was
clearly defined, and he ground his teeth with rage as he observed the
virtuous uprightness of Mrs. Gimpson's back. By the time they reached
home he was in a spirit of mad recklessness far in advance of the
character given him by the astrologer.

His wife gazed at him with a look of such strong interrogation as he was
about to follow her into the house that he