his gentleman's daughter, who has run away
from her friends.'

'Dear, dear!'

'And taken up with a beggarly Irishman!'

The landlord stared from one to the other in great perplexity. 'Dear
me!' he said. 'That is sad! The gentleman's daughter!' And he looked at
Mr. Thomasson, whose fat sallow face was sullenness itself. Then,
remembering his manners, 'Well, to be sure, I'll go and learn,' he
continued briskly. 'Charles!' to a half-dressed waiter, who at that
moment appeared at the foot of the stairs, 'set lights in the Yarmouth
and draw these gentlemen what they require. I'll not be many minutes,
Mr. Pomeroy.'

He hurried up the narrow staircase, and an instant later appeared on the
threshold of a room in which sat two gentlemen, facing one another in
silence before a hastily-kindled fire. They had travelled together from
Bristol, cheek by jowl in a post-chaise, exchanging scarce as many words
as they had traversed miles. But patience, whether it be of the sullen
or the dignified cast, has its limits; and these two, their tempers
exasperated by a chilly journey taken fasting, had come very near to the
end of sufferance. Fortunately, at the moment Mr. Dunborough--for he was
the one--made the discovery that he could not endure Sir George's
impassive face for so much as the hundredth part of another minute--and
in consequence was having recourse to his invention for the most brutal
remark with which to provoke him--the port and the landlord arrived
together; and William, who had carried up the cold beef and stewed
kidneys by another staircase, was heard on the landing. The host helped
to place the dishes on the table. Then he shut out his assistant.

'By your leave, Sir George,' he said diffidently. 'But the young lady
you were inquiring for? Might I ask--?'

He paused as if he feared to give offence. Sir George laid down his
knife and fork and looked at him. Mr. Dunborough did the same. 'Yes,
yes, man,' Soane said. 'Have you heard anything? Out with it!'

'Well, sir, it is only--I was going to ask if her father lived in these
parts.'

'Her father?'

'Yes, sir.'

Mr. Dunborough burst into rude laughter. 'Oh, Lord!' he said. 'Are we
grown so proper of a sudden? Her father, damme!'

Sir George shot a glance of disdain at him. Then, 'My good fellow,' he
said to the host, 'her father has been dead these fifteen years.'

The landlord reddened, annoyed by the way Mr. Dunborough had taken him.
'The gentleman mistak