ight,'
said the beau, 'along a narrow corridor, where it was imperative that
one of us should yield the 'pas;' and, I must confess it, we are all so
amazingly alike in our bones, that I stood prepared to demand place of
him. For indubitably the fellow was an obstruction, and at the first
glance repulsive. I took him for anybody's skeleton, Death's
ensign, with his cachinnatory skull, and the numbered ribs, and
the extraordinary splay feet--in fact, the whole ungainly and shaky
hobbledehoy which man is built on, and by whose image in his weaker
moments he is haunted. I had, to be frank, been dancing on a supper with
certain of our choicest Wits and Beauties. It is a recipe for conjuring
apparitions. Now, then, thinks I, my fine fellow, I will bounce you; and
without a salutation I pressed forward. Madam, I give you my word, he
behaved to the full pitch as I myself should have done under similar
circumstances. Retiring upon an inclination of his structure, he draws
up and fetches me a bow of the exact middle nick between dignity
and service. I advance, he withdraws, and again the bow, devoid of
obsequiousness, majestically condescending. These, thinks I, be royal
manners. I could have taken him for the Sable King in person, stripped
of his mantle. On my soul, he put me to the blush.'

'And is that all?' asked the duchess, relieving herself with a sigh.

'Why, madam,' quoth the beau, 'do you not see that he could have been
none other than mine own, who could comport himself with that grand air
and gracefulness when wounded by his closest relative? Upon his opening
my door for me, and accepting the 'pas,' which I now right heartily
accorded him, I recognized at once both him and the reproof he had
designedly dealt me--or the wine supper I had danced on, perhaps
I should say' and I protest that by such a display of supreme good
breeding he managed to convey the highest compliment ever received by
man, namely the assurance, that after the withering away of this mortal
garb, I shall still be noted for urbanity and elegancy. Nay, and more,
immortally, without the slip I was guilty of when I carried the bag of
wine.'

Duchess Susan fanned herself to assist her digestion of the anecdote.

'Well, it's not so frightful a story, and I know you are the great Mr.
Beamish;' she said.

He questioned her whether the gentleman had signalled him to her on the
hill.

'What can he mean about a gentleman?' she turned to Chloe. 'My duke