er royals
down to her lower studding sails, that stood out on each side like
great bat's wings; while all this mass of sail was dark in shadow
against the western glow. As the spectators watched her, those among
them who knew a little about nautical matters guessed that this must be
a man-of-war from the rapidity with which she began to furl her
sails--letting the golden light shine along between her spars; while
they further concluded, from the fact that only a kedge was thrown out
at her bows, that her stay in these shallow waters would be brief.

Now we must see how the advent of this stranger was regarded by the
occupants of a certain drawing-room in Brunswick Terrace. These were
five--a mother, son, and three daughters; and as they will all appear,
more or less, in the following history, it may be as well to introduce
them now and categorically to the reader.

First of all came Lady Beresford herself--an elderly, sallow-faced,
weak-looking woman, the widow of a General Officer who had got his
K.C.B.-ship for long service in India. She had a nervous system that
she worshipped as a sort of fetish; and in turn the obliging divinity
relieved her from many of the cares and troubles of this wearyful
world. For how could she submit to any discomfort or privation (the
family were not very well off for their station in life); or how could
she receive objectionable visitors, or investigate cases of harrowing
distress, or remonstrate with careless livery-stable keepers, or call
to account extortionate milliners when this precious nervous system had
to be considered? Lady Beresford turned away from these things and
ordered round her bath-chair, and was taken out to the end of the Pier,
that she might be soothed by the music and the sea air.

The eldest daughter in this drawing-room (the eldest daughter of the
family was married and in India) had not much nervousness about her.
She was a handsome, tall, blonde girl of the clear-cut English type,
cold and even proud in manner, strict in the performance of all her
duties, and not very charitable in her criticism of others. She had a
good figure; she dressed well; clear health shone in her pale fair face
and bright cold eyes. She was a daring horsewoman. Her brother called
her 'Nails,' which was a final contraction for 'Old Hard-as-Nails.'

The next sister, Edith, that same graceless youth was in the habit of
calling 'The Sentimental.' She was the darkest of the family