l one who, as friend or foe, must be taken into
account. Then Morris came in, and they went to dinner.

Here also Colonel Monk was very pleasant. He made Stella tell the story
of the shipwreck and of her rescue, and generally tried to draw her out
in every possible way. But all the while he was watching and taking
note of many things. Before they had been together for five minutes he
observed that this couple, his son and their visitor, were on terms of
extreme intimacy--intimacy so extreme and genuine that in two instances,
at least, each anticipated what the other was going to say, without
waiting for any words to be spoken. Thus Stella deliberately answered
a question that Morris had not put, and he accepted the answer and
continued the argument quite as a matter of course. Also, they seemed
mysteriously to understand each other's wants, and, worst of all,
he noted that when speaking they never addressed each other by name.
Evidently just then each of them had but one "you" in the world.

Now, the Colonel had not passed through very varied experiences and
studied many sides and conditions of life for nothing; indeed, he would
himself explain that he was able to see as far into a brick wall as
other folk.

The upshot of all this was that first he thought Morris a very lucky
fellow to be an object of undoubted admiration to those beautiful
eyes. (It may be explained that the Colonel throughout life had been
an advocate of taking such goods as the gods provided; something of a
worshipper, too, at the shrine of lovely Thais.) His second reflection
was that under all the circumstances it seemed quite time that he
returned home to look after him.

"Now, Miss Fregelius," he said, as she rose to leave the table, "when
Morris and I have had a glass of wine, and ten minutes to chat over
matters connected with his poor uncle's death, I am going to ask you to
do me a favour before I go up to smoke a cigar with your father. It is
that you will play me a tune on the violin and sing me a song."

"Did Mr. Monk tell you that I played and sang?" she asked.

"No, he did not. Indeed, Mr. Monk has told me nothing whatsoever about
you. His, as you may have observed, is not a very communicative nature.
The information came from a much less interesting, though, for aught
I know, from a more impartial source--the fat page-boy, Thomas, who
is first tenor in the Wesleyan chapel, and therefore imagines that he
understands music."

"But