d very different place. She was living through something
which chilled her heart, something terrifying. Tavernake saw those
things in her face and his eyes spelt them out mercilessly.

"Father," she whispered, leaning towards him, "do you believe what you
have just been saying to me?"

It was the professor's turn to be disturbed. He concealed his
discomfiture, however, with a gesture of annoyance.

"That is scarcely a proper question, Beatrice," he answered sharply.
"Ah," he added, with more geniality, "the cocktails! My young friend
Tavernake, I drink to our better acquaintance! You are English, as I
can see, a real Britisher. Some day you must come out to our own great
country--my daughter, of course, has told you that we are Americans. A
great country, sir,--the greatest I have ever lived in--room to breathe,
room to grow, room for a young man like you to plant his ambitions and
watch them blossom. To our better acquaintance, Mr. Tavernake, and may
we meet some day in the United States!"

Tavernake drank the first cocktail in his life and wiped the tears from
his eyes. The professor found safety in conversation.

"You know," he went on, "that I am a man of science. Physiognomy
delights me. Men and women as I meet them represent to me varying types
of humanity, all interesting, all appealing to my peculiar love of the
science of psychology. You, my dear Mr. Tavernake, if I may venture to
be so personal, represent to me, as you sit there, the exact prototype
of the young working Englishman. You are, I should judge, thorough,
dogmatic, narrow, persistent, industrious, and bound to be successful
according to the scope and nature of your ambitions. In this country
you will never develop. In my country, sir, we should make a colossus of
you. We should teach you not to be content with small things; we should
raise your hand which you yourself kept to your side, and we should
point your finger to the skies. Waiter," he added, turning abruptly
round, "if the quails are not yet ready I will take another of these
excellent cocktails."

Tavernake was embarrassed. He saw that Beatrice was anxious to talk to
her father; he saw, also, that her father was determined not to talk
to her. With a little sigh, however, she resigned herself to the
inevitable.

"I have lectured, sir," the professor continued, "in most of the cities
of the United States, upon the human race. The tendencies of every
unit of the human race are my pecu