is a want of originality about you----'

'There is a want of politeness about you,' said Miss Madge, calmly.

'There is not that flow of ideas that helps one to pass the time. Now
that ought to be the business of women. Men who have the hard work of
the world to get through require to be entertained, and women should
make a study of it, and learn to be amusing----'

'You won't talk like that to your rich widow,' said his sister, 'when
you have to go to her for a cheque.'

'Now, there's what I would call a sort of vacuity in your mind,' he
continued, bending his cane from time to time on the pavement, 'that
might be filled up with something. You might read the newspapers. You
might get to know that a Conservative Government and a Liberal
Government are not in office at the same time--not generally, at least.'

'Tom,' she said, 'do you think you could get Captain King to come to
the Hunt ball?'

He glanced at her suspiciously.

'Captain King?' said he. 'How do you know I am going to see Captain
King again? How do you know that he did not go back to town this
morning?'

'Because,' she answered, with her eyes fixed on some distant object,
'because I can see him on the pier.'

Tom Beresford had a quick, dark suspicion that he had been made a fool
of, even while he was lecturing his sister on her ignorance; but he was
not going to admit anything of the kind.

'Yes,' he said, carelessly, 'I fancy that is King coming along. I hope
he won't be gone before we get there; I want him to tell me where he
gets his boots. Mine aren't bad, you know,' he said, glancing
approvingly at these important objects, 'but there's a style about his
that I rather fancy.'

'Don't forget about the ball, Tom,' said his sister; 'it would be very
nice if we could get up a little party amongst ourselves.'

But Tom, as he walked along, continued to glance down at his glazed
boots in a thoughtful and preoccupied manner; it was clear that his
mind was charged concerning them.

Frank King was on the pier, and very few others besides, except the
musicians in their box. He threw away a cigar, and came forward
quickly. His face expressed much pleasure, though he regarded Madge
Beresford with something of timidity.

'I was afraid you would not venture out on such a morning,' he said,
looking at the clear blue-gray eyes that were immediately turned away.

Her manner was civil, but that was all. She shook hands with him, of
course, an