him. After all, what was she but a "pert poppet"? He
determined that marriage "clips a fellow's wings confoundedly,"
and so he set himself to enjoy life after his old fashion. There
was perhaps a little swagger as he threw himself into a chair and
addressed the happy lover. "I'll be shot if I didn't meet Tifto at
the corner of the street."

"Tifto!"

"Yes, Tifto. He looked awfully seedy, with a greatcoat buttoned up to
his chin, a shabby hat and old gloves."

"Did he speak to you?" asked Silverbridge.

"No;--nor I to him. He hadn't time to think whether he would speak or
not, and you may be sure I didn't."

Nothing further was said about the man, but Silverbridge was uneasy
and silent. When his cigar was finished he got up, saying that he
should go back to the House. As he left the club he looked about him
as though expecting to see his old friend, and when he had passed
through the first street and had got into the Haymarket there he was!
The Major came up to him, touched his hat, asked to be allowed to say
a few words. "I don't think it can do any good," said Silverbridge.
The man had not attempted to shake hands with him, or affected
familiarity; but seemed to be thoroughly humiliated. "I don't think I
can be of any service to you, and therefore I had rather decline."

"I don't want you to be of any service, my Lord."

"Then what's the good?"

"I have something to say. May I come to you to-morrow?"

Then Silverbridge allowed himself to make an appointment, and an hour
was named at which Tifto might call in Carlton Terrace. He felt that
he almost owed some reparation to the wretched man,--whom he had
unfortunately admitted among his friends, whom he had used, and to
whom he had been uncourteous. Exactly at the hour named the Major was
shown into his room.

Dolly had said that he was shabby,--but the man was altered rather
than shabby. He still had rings on his fingers and studs in his
shirt, and a jewelled pin in his cravat;--but he had shaven off his
moustache and the tuft from his chin, and his hair had been cut
short, and in spite of his jewellery there was a hang-dog look about
him. "I've got something that I particularly want to say to you, my
Lord." Silverbridge would not shake hands with him, but could not
refrain from offering him a chair.

"Well;--you can say it now."

"Yes;--but it isn't so very easy to be said. There are some things,
though you want to say them ever so, you don't quite know