for Florence and Edward and the girl to come back from a concert
at the Casino. They had not gone there all together. Florence, I
remember, had said at first that she would remain with Leonora,
and me, and Edward and the girl had gone off alone. And then
Leonora had said to Florence with perfect calmness:

"I wish you would go with those two. I think the girl ought to have
the appearance of being chaperoned with Edward in these places.
I think the time has come." So Florence, with her light step, had
slipped out after them. She was all in black for some cousin or
other. Americans are particular in those matters.

We had gone on sitting in the lounge till towards ten, when
Leonora had gone up to bed. It had been a very hot day, but there
it was cool. The man called Bagshawe had been reading The
Times on the other side of the room, but then he moved over to
me with some trifling question as a prelude to suggesting an
acquaintance. I fancy he asked me something About the poll-tax
on Kur-guests, and whether it could not be sneaked out of. He was
that sort of person.

Well, he was an unmistakable man, with a military figure, rather
exaggerated, with bulbous eyes that avoided your own, and a pallid
complexion that suggested vices practised in secret along with an
uneasy desire for making acquaintance at whatever cost. . . . The
filthy toad. . . .

He began by telling me that he came from Ludlow Manor, near
Ledbury. The name had a slightly familiar sound, though I could
not fix it in my mind. Then he began to talk about a duty on hops,