uld recognise me."

"I don't know Edmund Trevelyan, and have no wish to make his
acquaintance," returned the other coldly.

"That's quite all right, and your wish does you credit. Trevelyan has no
desire to force his friendship on any man. Nevertheless, Jack, time was
when I helped you out of a hole, and, if occasion arose, I should be
glad to do it again."

"You could have prevented my expulsion from the Camperdown Club, had you
but cared to raise a finger," said the other hotly.

"Hazel, you are mistaken. I did all I could for you, as in other crises
of the same nature. The committee proved to be adamant, and rather
prided themselves on their independence, as if they were a group of
blooming Radicals. The House of Lords isn't what it was, Jack, as, alas,
you may learn, should you ever come into the title of your family,
although many people stand between you and it at the present moment.
Indeed, Jack, it has been on my conscience that my urgent advocacy
prejudiced your case instead of helping it."

"Ah, well, that's all past; it doesn't matter now," said the other, with
a sigh. "I have shaken the dust of England for ever from my feet."

"The mud, you mean."

"Oh, I admit I wallowed in the mud, but it was dust when I left London
this morning. Ah, we're off! I must be going." And he moved away from
the rail of the ship, where he had been gazing over the side.

"Going? Where?"

"Where I belong. I'm travelling third-class. The moment the steamer gets
under way, I have no right on the cabin deck. Before she left, I took
the liberty of a sightseer to wander over the steamship."

"My dear Jack," said his former friend, in a grave voice, "this will
never do; you cannot cross the Atlantic in the steerage."

"I have visited my quarters, and find them very comfortable. I have been
in much worse places recently. Steerage is like everything else
maritime--like this bewilderingly immense steamer, for example--vastly
improved since Robert Louis Stevenson took his trip third-class to New
York."

"Well, it is a change for a luxury-loving person like my friend the Hon.
John Hazel."

"It is very condescending of you to call me your friend. Nobody else
would do it," replied the Hon. John bitterly.

"Condescension be hanged! I'm rather bewildered, that's all, and wish
for further particulars. Are you turning over a new leaf, then?"

"A new leaf? A thousand of them! I have thrown away the old book, with
its blotches and