ok one.

"Not if you are smoker enough to appreciate it," he said, as he
stretched himself on the ground beside me, and produced from a little
gold match-box a wax vesta, with which he lighted my cigarette and his
own.

So graceful was his whole personality, so easy and charming his manner,
that it did not strike me as in the least odd that he should thus make
friends with me by the mere exchange of half a dozen words. I looked at
him as he lay resting on his elbows and smoking lazily. He had thrown
his hat off, and his wavy hair, longish and of an opaque charcoal black,
fell over his temples while he shook it back behind his ears. He was a
little above the middle height, of dark complexion, with large and soft
black eyes and arched eyebrows, a small and rather broad nose (the worst
feature in his face), full curving and sensitive lips, and a very strong
and rounded chin. He was absolutely beardless, but a slight black down
on the upper lip announced a coming mustache. His age could not have
been more than twenty. The cut of his clothes, as I have said, was
English, but his large black satin neck-cloth, flowing out over the
collar of his coat, was such as no home-keeping Englishman would ever
have dared to appear in. This detail, combined with his accent,
perfectly pure but a trifle precise and deliberate, led me to take him
for an Englishman brought up on the Continent--probably in Italy, for
there was no French intonation in his speech. His voice was rich, but
deep--a light baritone.

He took up my _Saturday Review_.

"The Bible of the Englishman abroad," he said. "One of the institutions
that makes me proud of our country."

"I have it sent me every week," I said.

"So had my father," he replied. "He used to say, 'Shakespeare we share
with the Americans, but damn it, the _Saturday Review_ is all our own!'
He was one of the old school, my father."

"And the good school," I said, with enthusiasm. "So am I."

"Now, I'm a bit of a Radical," my new friend rejoined, looking up with a
smile, which made the confession charming rather than objectionable; and
from this point we started upon a discussion, every word of which I
could write down if I chose, such a lasting impression did it make upon
me. He was indeed a brilliant talker, having read much and travelled
enormously for one so young. "I think I have lived in every country in
Europe," he said, "except Russia. Somehow it has never interested me." I
found that