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out in India, and I have made a fair record in my work, though I say it myself.”

A pause, while the horses’ feet crunched the wet glassy sand. Alice felt a certain desire to know more of his acquaintance with the Austin family, but could not bring herself to inquire. However, he went on presently:

“When I was staying with the boss—I mean his Excellency—I met your friend Mrs. Austin, and she asked me to come down here, and I’m very glad of it now.”

“Ah, you admire her, of course!”

“Oh, she’s a terror!—to use her own favourite expression—beautiful, truly beautiful, which is a word I don’t often use; and so thoroughly colonial—such a perfect type!”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Well, I didn’t say she was the best type. I have a curiosity to see her husband. I know a good many professional beauties, and I think I can form a good idea of him from my former experience of that class, though I’ve never met the worthy man.”

“I don’t believe you can!”

“Isn’t he a very kind, quiet, thread-papery little middle-aged man who sits on the edge of his chair, apologizes for everything in his house, and gives hundred-pound notes anony-