e--well, you're described as being like that; and the young English
lady becomes your patron, and you're to be educated, and brought to
London. But whether her husband is to be killed off, to make way for
you, or whether she is going to hand you over to one of her sisters, I
don't know yet. It must be rather nice to look at yourself in a novel,
and see what other people think of you and what fate they ordain for
you. Lady Adela has got all the criticisms of her last novel--all the
nice ones, I mean--cut out and pasted on pages and bound in scarlet
morocco. I told her she should have all the unpleasant ones cut out and
bound in green--envy and jealousy, don't you see?--but she pretends not
to have seen any besides those she has kept. The book is in her own
room; I suppose she reads it over every night, before going to bed. And
really, after so much praise, it is extraordinary that she is to have no
money for the book--no, quite the reverse, I believe. She was looking
forward to making Sir Hugh a very handsome present--all out of her own
earnings, don't you know--and she wrote to the publishers; but, instead
of Sir Hugh getting a present, he will have to give her a check to cover
the deficit, poor man! Disappointing, isn't it?--quite horrid, I call
it; and every one thought the novel such a success--your friend, Mr.
Quirk, was most enthusiastic--and we made sure that the public would be
equally impressed. It isn't the loss of the money that Lady Adela frets
about; it is the publishers telling her that so few copies have been
sold; and we made sure, from all that was said in the papers--especially
those that Mr. Quirk was kind enough to send--that the book was going to
be read everywhere. Mind you don't say anything of the young Greek
sailor until Lady Adela herself shows you the MS.; and of course you
mustn't recognize your own portrait, for that is merely a guess of mine.
Oh, thank you, thank you!"

The last words were a murmur of gratitude to Lady Sybil Bourne for her
kindness in playing this piece of her own composition; and thereafter
Miss Georgie's engaging and instructive monologue was not resumed, for
the evening was now about to be wound up by a round or two of poker, and
at poker Miss Georgie was an eager adept.

All that night it poured a deluge, and the morning beheld the Aivron in
roaring spate, the familiar landmarks of the banks having mostly
disappeared and also many of the mid-channel rocks; while the blue