our human aristocracy. For years
past animals of pedigree have been almost forced upon Ireland. Men of
pedigree have as far as possible been discouraged from remaining in
this country. This idea struck me as very suitable for one of my light
newspaper articles. I was unwilling to lose grip of it and allow it to
fade away as Malcolmson and his cannons had faded the night before. I
took a sheet of paper and a pencil from my pocket and sat down on a
stone to make a rough draft of the article. Before I had written three
sentences I heard Marion's voice.

"Oh, there you are, father. We were looking for you everywhere. Mr.
Power and I want you to come and play tennis with us."

I rose and stuffed my paper into my pocket. I felt quite glad that
they had found me, although I do not care for playing tennis, and, as
a rule, enjoy writing articles.

"You will get on much better without me," I said.

"Oh no," said Marion; "Mr. Power is sure to beat me in a single; but I
think I'd have a pretty good chance if you are on his side."

I was to act as a handicap. My efforts to help Power were reckoned to
be worth one, perhaps two strokes in every game for Marion. This was
not complimentary to me; but I dare say my tennis deserves no more
respectful treatment. I agreed to be a handicap, and I was a good one.
Marion won the first set. I got exceedingly hot, but, up to the middle
of the second set, I enjoyed myself. Then Godfrey appeared. He watched
my efforts with an air of cold superiority and contemptuous surprise.
My heart failed me and I was obliged to ask to be allowed to stop.

Bob Power invited us to lunch on the _Finola_. Marion accepted the
invitation joyfully. Godfrey also accepted, although I do not think
Power meant to ask him. But Godfrey is not the kind of man to miss the
chance of getting into touch, however remotely, with any one as rich
as Conroy. Power eyed him with an expression of frank dislike.
Godfrey, it seemed to me, did not much like Power. He was probably
annoyed at the way in which Power made himself agreeable to Marion.
Godfrey regarded Marion as, in a sense, his property, although there
was nothing in the way of an engagement between them.

McNeice, whom I had hoped to meet, was not on the yacht. The steward
explained to us that he was spending the day with Crossan. I could see
that the thought of any one spending the day with Crossan outraged
Godfrey's sense of decency. By way, I suppose, of annoying