as just as ready with
German. It seemed as if he had been recently among French people, if
one could judge from such things as his calling his hostess "Madame"
when he recovered. These facts came to light in the course of next
day, the second of his stay in the house. The favourable impression he
had produced on Miss Sally did not diminish, and it seemed much easier
and more natural to acquiesce in his remaining than to cast about for
a new whereabouts to transfer him to. So his departure was
deferred--for a day, at least, or perhaps until the room he occupied
should be wanted for other purposes. The postponements on the days
that followed were a natural sequence so long as there remained any
doubt of his ability to shift for himself.

But in about a month's time the effects of the nervous shock had
nearly disappeared, and he had almost recovered the use of his
hand--could, in fact, write easily. Besides, as long as he remained,
it would be impossible for an old friend of Mrs. Nightingale's, who
frequently stayed the night, when he came on an evening visit, to
follow a custom which was in the winter almost invariable. In the
summer it was less important; and as soon as this friend, an old
military gentleman spoken of as "the Major," could be got to
understand exactly what had taken place, he readily gave up his
quarters at Krakatoa Villa, and returned to his own, at the top of
a house in Ball Street, Mayfair.

Nevertheless, the inevitable time came for looking Fenwick's future in
the face. It was difficult, as he was unable to contribute a solution
of the question, except by his readiness to go out and find work for
himself, promising not to come back till he found it.

"You'll see I shall come back to dinner," said he. "I shan't make you
late."

Sally asked him what sort of work he should look for.

"I have a sort of inner conviction," he replied, "that I could do
almost anything I turned my hand to. Probably it is only a diseased
confidence bred of what you might call my artificial inexperience.
Every sharp young man's _bona fide_ inexperience lands him in that
delusion."

"But you must have _some_ kind of preference for _something_, however
much you forget."

"If I were to choose, I think I should like horse-training.... Oh no,
of course I can't recall the training of any specific horse. But I
know I know all about it, for all that. I can feel the knowledge of it
itching in my finger-ends. Yes--I could trai