to
correct his view of a picture. 'Just one point out of the picture.
Dare I alter it? May I?' And, stepping forward, he thrust well down in
my breast coat pocket Mrs. Gabbitas's gorgeous silk handkerchief.
'Yes,' as he moved backward again, 'that's better. One never can see
these things for oneself. But let me make sure of your important news
before we are interrupted.'

So I told my story as well as I could, and Mr. Rawlence was in the act
of expressing his kindly interest therein, when I heard steps and
voices on the stairs below.

'If you're not otherwise engaged you must stay till these fellows go,
Nick,' said my host. 'We haven't half finished our talk, you know.
And--er--if you should be talking to any one here of--er--your present
situation, I should leave it quite vague, if I were you; secretarial
work you know--something of that sort. We may have some newspaper men
here who might be useful to you one day--you follow me?'

'Ah! Hail! Good of you to have come, Landon. Ah, Foster! Jones! Good
men! Do find seats. Oh, let me introduce a new arrival--Mr. Nicholas
Freydon; Mr. Landon, the disgracefully well-known painter, Mr. Foster
and Mr. Jones, both of the Fourth Estate, though frequently taken for
quite respectable members of society. We may not have a Fleet Street
here, you know, Freydon, but we have one or two rather decent
newspapers, as you may have noticed.'

He turned to the still smiling young Chinaman. 'Let's have cigars and
cigarettes, Ah Lun.'

I gathered that I had been presented as a new arrival from England. It
was rather startling; but so far I found that an occasional smile was
all that seemed expected of me, and I was of course anxious to do my
best. 'Good thing I've started smoking,' I thought, as Ah Lun began
passing round two massive silver boxes, with cigars and cigarettes.
The visitors were mostly young, rather noticeably young, I thought, in
view of the greying hair over Mr. Rawlence's temples; and I felt less
and less alarmed as I listened to their talk. In fact, shamelessly
disrespectful though the idea was, I found myself, after a while,
wondering whether Mr. Smith might not have called some of the
conversation 'cackle.' And then some technicalities, journalistic and
artistic, began to star the talk, and I meekly rebuked my own
presumption. But I have no doubt whatever that Mr. Smith would have
called most of it 'cackle,' and it is possible he would have been
tolerably near the tru