awling enunciation.

"Mr. Coulson, isn't it?" the young man asked, accepting the other's
outstretched hand. "We are awfully sorry to disturb you, so soon after
your arrival, too, but the fact is that this young lady, Miss Penelope
Morse,"--Mr. Coulson bowed,--"was exceedingly anxious to make your
acquaintance. You Americans are such birds of passage that she was
afraid you might have moved on if she didn't look you up at once."

Penelope herself intervened.

"I'm afraid you're going to think me a terrible nuisance, Mr. Coulson!"
she exclaimed. Mr. Coulson, although he did not call himself a lady's
man, was nevertheless human enough to appreciate the fact that the young
lady's face was piquant and her smile delightful. She was dressed
with quiet but elegant simplicity. The perfume of the violets at her
waistband seemed to remind him of his return to civilization.

"Well, I'll take my risks of that, Miss Morse," he declared. "If you'll
only let me know what I can do for you--"

"It's about poor Mr. Hamilton Fynes," she explained. "I took up the
evening paper only half an hour ago, and read your interview with the
reporter. I simply couldn't help stopping to ask whether you could give
me any further particulars about that horrible affair. I didn't dare to
come here all alone, so I asked Sir Charles to come along with me."

Mr. Coulson, being invited to do so, seated himself on the lounge by
the young lady's side. He leaned a little forward with a hand on either
knee.

"I don't exactly know what I can tell you," he remarked. "I take it,
then, that you were well acquainted with Mr. Fynes?"

"I used to know him quite well," Penelope answered, "and naturally I am
very much upset. When I read in the paper an account of your interview
with the reporter, I could see at once that you were not telling him
everything. Why should you, indeed? A man does not want every detail of
his life set out in the newspapers just because he has become connected
with a terrible tragedy."

"You're a very sensible young lady, Miss Morse, if you will allow me to
say so," Mr. Coulson declared. "You were expecting to see something of
Mr. Fynes over here, then?"

"I had an appointment to lunch with him today," she answered. "He sent
me a marconigram before he arrived at Queenstown."

"Is that so?" Mr. Coulson exclaimed. "Well, well!"

"I actually went to the restaurant," Penelope continued, "without
knowing anything of this. I can't unders