ry to find some substance which is
less exquisitely sensitive, something a little grosser, more in key with
the material world; or to discover someone whom you do understand. Don't
lose heart; don't be beaten after all these years."

"No," he answered, "I don't unless I die," and he turned to go.

"Morris," she said, in a softer voice, "I am lazy, I know. Perhaps
that is why I adore people who can work. So, although you don't think
anything of me, I will do my honest best to get into sympathy with you
again; yes, and to help in any way I can. No; it's not a joke. I would
give a great deal to see the thing a success."

"Why do you say I don't think anything of you, Mary? Of course, it isn't
true. Besides, you are my cousin, and we have always been good friends
since you were a little thing."

She laughed. "Yes, and I suppose that as you had no brothers or sisters
they taught you to pray for your cousin, didn't they? Oh, I know all
about it. It is my unfortunate sex that is to blame; while I was a mere
tom-boy it was different. No one can serve two masters, can they? You
have chosen to serve a machine that won't go, and I daresay that you are
wise. Yes, I think that it is the better part--until you find someone
that will make it go--and then you would adore her--by aerophone!"

CHAPTER II

THE COLONEL AND SOME REFLECTIONS

Presently Morris heard a step upon the lawn, and turned to see his
father sauntering towards him. Colonel Monk, C.B., was an elderly man,
over sixty indeed, but still of an upright and soldierly bearing. His
record was rather distinguished. In his youth he had served in the
Crimea, and in due course was promoted to the command of a regiment of
Guards. After this, certain diplomatic abilities caused him to be sent
to one of the foreign capitals as military attache, and in reward of
this service, on retiring, he was created a Companion of the Bath. In
appearance he was handsome also; in fact, much better looking than his
son, with his iron-grey hair, his clear-cut features, somewhat marred
in effect by a certain shiftiness of the mouth, and his large dark eyes.
Morris had those dark eyes also--they redeemed his face from plainness,
for otherwise it showed no beauty, the features being too irregular, the
brow too prominent, and the mouth too large. Yet it could boast what, in
the case of a man at any rate, is better than beauty--spirituality,
and a certain sympathetic charm. It was not the face