things about me in 'arf an hour."

"No, George," said Mr. Stiles, beaming on him kindly; "when I put my hand
to the plough I don't draw back. It's a good speaking part, too, an
admiral's. I wonder whether I might use old Peters's language."

"Certainly not," said Mr. Burton, in alarm.

"You don't know how particular she is."

Mr. Stiles sighed, and said that he would do the best he could without
it. He spent most of the day on the beach smoking, and when evening came
shaved himself with extreme care and brushed his serge suit with great
perseverance in preparation for his visit.

Mr. Burton performed the ceremony of introduction with some awkwardness;
Mr. Stiles was affecting a stateliness of manner which was not without
distinction; and Mrs. Dutton, in a black silk dress and the cameo brooch
which had belonged to her mother, was no less important. Mr. Burton had
an odd feeling of inferiority.

[Illustration: "Mr. Stiles was affecting a stateliness of manner which
was not without distinction."]

"It's a very small place to ask you to, Admiral Peters," said the widow,
offering him a chair.

"It's comfortable, ma'am," said Mr. Stiles, looking round approvingly.
"Ah, you should see some of the palaces I've been in abroad; all show and
no comfort. Not a decent chair in the place. And, as for the