e, a glance, convey mysterious nothings to
you, a male. She would not be subtly changed by the sensuous influences
of the situation; she would always be the same plump and earthly piece
of candour. Even if she were in love with you, she would not convey
mysterious nothings in such circumstances. If she were in love with you
she would most clearly convey unmysterious and solid somethings. I was
convinced that the contributing cause to the presence of the late Simon
Fuge in the boat on Ilam Lake on the historic night was Annie the
superior barmaid, and not Sally of the automobile. But Mrs Colclough,
if not beautiful, was a very agreeable creation. Her amplitude gave at
first sight an exaggerated impression of her age; but this departed
after more careful inspection. She could not have been more than
thirty. She was very dark, with plenteous and untidy black hair, thick
eyebrows, and a slight moustache. Her eyes were very vivacious, and her
gestures, despite that bulk, quick and graceful. She was happy; her
ideals were satisfied; it was probably happiness that had made her
stout. Her massiveness was apparently no grief to her; she had fallen
into the carelessness which is too often the pitfall of women who,
being stout, are content.

'How do, missis?' Mr Brindley greeted her, and to his wife, 'How do,
missis? But, look here, bright star, this gadding about is all very
well, but what about those precious kids of yours? None of 'em dead
yet, I hope.'

'Don't be silly, Bob.'

'I've been over to your house,' Mrs Colclough put in. 'Of course it
isn't mumps. The child's as right as rain. So I brought Mary back with
me.'

'Well,' said Mr Brindley, 'for a woman who's never had any children
your knowledge of children beggars description. What you aren't sure
you know about them isn't knowledge. However--'

'Listen,' Mrs Colclough replied, with a delightful throwingdown of the
glove. 'I'll bet you a level sovereign that child hasn't got the mumps.
So there! And Oliver will guarantee to pay you.'

'Aye!' said Mr Colclough; 'I'll back my wife any day.'

'Don't bet, Bob,' Mrs Brindley enjoined her husband excitedly in her
high treble.

'I won't,' said Mr Brindley.

'Now let's sit down.' Mrs Colclough addressed me with particular,
confidential grace.

We three exactly filled the sofa. I have often sat between two women,
but never with such calm, unreserved, unapprehensive comfortableness as
I experienced between Mrs Colclo