2 files changed, 1217 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/865-h/865-h.htm b/865-h/865-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..88806d0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/865-h/865-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,1217 @@
+<!DOCTYPE html>
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+<head>
+    <meta charset="UTF-8">
+    <title>
+      Passing of the Third Floor Back | Project Gutenberg
+    </title>
+    <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover">
+    <style> /* <![CDATA[ */
+
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    .pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 865 ***</div>
+
+    <h1>
+      PASSING OF THE THIRD FLOOR BACK
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Jerome K. Jerome
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br> <br>
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p>
+        Author of &ldquo;Paul Kelver,&rdquo; &ldquo;Three Men in a Boat,&rdquo; etc., etc.
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        New York
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        Dodd, Mead &amp; Company
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        1909
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        Copyright, 1904, By Jerome K. Jerome
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        Copyright, 1908, By Dodd, Mead &amp; Company
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        Published, September, 1908
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br> <br>
+    </p>
+    <hr>
+    <p>
+      <br> <br>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The neighbourhood of Bloomsbury Square towards four o&rsquo;clock of a November
+      afternoon is not so crowded as to secure to the stranger, of appearance
+      anything out of the common, immunity from observation. Tibb&rsquo;s boy,
+      screaming at the top of his voice that <i>she</i> was his honey, stopped
+      suddenly, stepped backwards on to the toes of a voluble young lady
+      wheeling a perambulator, and remained deaf, apparently, to the somewhat
+      personal remarks of the voluble young lady. Not until he had reached the
+      next corner&mdash;and then more as a soliloquy than as information to the
+      street&mdash;did Tibb&rsquo;s boy recover sufficient interest in his own affairs
+      to remark that <i>he</i> was her bee. The voluble young lady herself,
+      following some half-a-dozen yards behind, forgot her wrongs in
+      contemplation of the stranger&rsquo;s back. There was this that was peculiar
+      about the stranger&rsquo;s back: that instead of being flat it presented a
+      decided curve. &ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t a &lsquo;ump, and it don&rsquo;t look like kervitcher of the
+      spine,&rdquo; observed the voluble young lady to herself. &ldquo;Blimy if I don&rsquo;t
+      believe &lsquo;e&rsquo;s taking &lsquo;ome &lsquo;is washing up his back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The constable at the corner, trying to seem busy doing nothing, noticed
+      the stranger&rsquo;s approach with gathering interest. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s an odd sort of a
+      walk of yours, young man,&rdquo; thought the constable. &ldquo;You take care you don&rsquo;t
+      fall down and tumble over yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thought he was a young man,&rdquo; murmured the constable, the stranger having
+      passed him. &ldquo;He had a young face right enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The daylight was fading. The stranger, finding it impossible to read the
+      name of the street upon the corner house, turned back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, &lsquo;tis a young man,&rdquo; the constable told himself; &ldquo;a mere boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said the stranger; &ldquo;but would you mind telling me my
+      way to Bloomsbury Square.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is Bloomsbury Square,&rdquo; explained the constable; &ldquo;leastways round the
+      corner is. What number might you be wanting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger took from the ticket pocket of his tightly buttoned overcoat
+      a piece of paper, unfolded it and read it out: &ldquo;Mrs. Pennycherry. Number
+      Forty-eight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Round to the left,&rdquo; instructed him the constable; &ldquo;fourth house. Been
+      recommended there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By&mdash;by a friend,&rdquo; replied the stranger. &ldquo;Thank you very much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; muttered the constable to himself; &ldquo;guess you won&rsquo;t be calling him
+      that by the end of the week, young&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Funny,&rdquo; added the constable, gazing after the retreating figure of the
+      stranger. &ldquo;Seen plenty of the other sex as looked young behind and old in
+      front. This cove looks young in front and old behind. Guess he&rsquo;ll look old
+      all round if he stops long at mother Pennycherry&rsquo;s: stingy old cat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Constables whose beat included Bloomsbury Square had their reasons for not
+      liking Mrs. Pennycherry. Indeed it might have been difficult to discover
+      any human being with reasons for liking that sharp-featured lady. Maybe
+      the keeping of second-rate boarding houses in the neighbourhood of
+      Bloomsbury does not tend to develop the virtues of generosity and
+      amiability.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meanwhile the stranger, proceeding upon his way, had rung the bell of
+      Number Forty-eight. Mrs. Pennycherry, peeping from the area and catching a
+      glimpse, above the railings, of a handsome if somewhat effeminate
+      masculine face, hastened to readjust her widow&rsquo;s cap before the
+      looking-glass while directing Mary Jane to show the stranger, should he
+      prove a problematical boarder, into the dining-room, and to light the gas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And don&rsquo;t stop gossiping, and don&rsquo;t you take it upon yourself to answer
+      questions. Say I&rsquo;ll be up in a minute,&rdquo; were Mrs. Pennycherry&rsquo;s further
+      instructions, &ldquo;and mind you hide your hands as much as you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      ***
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you grinning at?&rdquo; demanded Mrs. Pennycherry, a couple of minutes
+      later, of the dingy Mary Jane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wasn&rsquo;t grinning,&rdquo; explained the meek Mary Jane, &ldquo;was only smiling to
+      myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What at?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dunno,&rdquo; admitted Mary Jane. But still she went on smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s he like then?&rdquo; demanded Mrs. Pennycherry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;E ain&rsquo;t the usual sort,&rdquo; was Mary Jane&rsquo;s opinion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank God for that,&rdquo; ejaculated Mrs. Pennycherry piously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Says &lsquo;e&rsquo;s been recommended, by a friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By whom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By a friend. &lsquo;E didn&rsquo;t say no name.&rdquo;</p> 
+      <p>Mrs. Pennycherry pondered. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s not
+      the funny sort, is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Not that sort at all. Mary Jane was sure of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Pennycherry ascended the stairs still pondering. As she entered the
+      room the stranger rose and bowed. Nothing could have been simpler than the
+      stranger&rsquo;s bow, yet there came with it to Mrs. Pennycherry a rush of old
+      sensations long forgotten. For one brief moment Mrs. Pennycherry saw
+      herself an amiable well-bred lady, widow of a solicitor: a visitor had
+      called to see her. It was but a momentary fancy. The next instant Reality
+      reasserted itself. Mrs. Pennycherry, a lodging-house keeper, existing
+      precariously upon a daily round of petty meannesses, was prepared for
+      contest with a possible new boarder, who fortunately looked an
+      inexperienced young gentleman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Someone has recommended me to you,&rdquo; began Mrs. Pennycherry; &ldquo;may I ask
+      who?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the stranger waved the question aside as immaterial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might not remember&mdash;him,&rdquo; he smiled. &ldquo;He thought that I should
+      do well to pass the few months I am given&mdash;that I have to be in
+      London, here. You can take me in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Pennycherry thought that she would be able to take the stranger in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A room to sleep in,&rdquo; explained the stranger, &ldquo;&mdash;any room will do&mdash;with
+      food and drink sufficient for a man, is all that I require.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For breakfast,&rdquo; began Mrs. Pennycherry, &ldquo;I always give&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is right and proper, I am convinced,&rdquo; interrupted the stranger.
+      &ldquo;Pray do not trouble to go into detail, Mrs. Pennycherry. With whatever it
+      is I shall be content.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Pennycherry, puzzled, shot a quick glance at the stranger, but his
+      face, though the gentle eyes were smiling, was frank and serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At all events you will see the room,&rdquo; suggested Mrs. Pennycherry, &ldquo;before
+      we discuss terms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; agreed the stranger. &ldquo;I am a little tired and shall be glad
+      to rest there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Pennycherry led the way upward; on the landing of the third floor,
+      paused a moment undecided, then opened the door of the back bedroom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very comfortable,&rdquo; commented the stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For this room,&rdquo; stated Mrs. Pennycherry, &ldquo;together with full board,
+      consisting of&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of everything needful. It goes without saying,&rdquo; again interrupted the
+      stranger with his quiet grave smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have generally asked,&rdquo; continued Mrs. Pennycherry, &ldquo;four pounds a week.
+      To you&mdash;&rdquo; Mrs. Pennycherry&rsquo;s voice, unknown to her, took to itself
+      the note of aggressive generosity&mdash;&ldquo;seeing you have been recommended
+      here, say three pounds ten.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear lady,&rdquo; said the stranger, &ldquo;that is kind of you. As you have divined,
+      I am not a rich man. If it be not imposing upon you I accept your
+      reduction with gratitude.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again Mrs. Pennycherry, familiar with the satirical method, shot a
+      suspicious glance upon the stranger, but not a line was there, upon that
+      smooth fair face, to which a sneer could for a moment have clung. Clearly
+      he was as simple as he looked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gas, of course, extra.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; agreed the Stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Coals&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall not quarrel,&rdquo; for a third time the stranger interrupted. &ldquo;You
+      have been very considerate to me as it is. I feel, Mrs. Pennycherry, I can
+      leave myself entirely in your hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger appeared anxious to be alone. Mrs. Pennycherry, having put a
+      match to the stranger&rsquo;s fire, turned to depart. And at this point it was
+      that Mrs. Pennycherry, the holder hitherto of an unbroken record for
+      sanity, behaved in a manner she herself, five minutes earlier in her
+      career, would have deemed impossible&mdash;that no living soul who had
+      ever known her would have believed, even had Mrs. Pennycherry gone down
+      upon her knees and sworn it to them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I say three pound ten?&rdquo; demanded Mrs. Pennycherry of the stranger,
+      her hand upon the door. She spoke crossly. She was feeling cross, with the
+      stranger, with herself&mdash;particularly with herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were kind enough to reduce it to that amount,&rdquo; replied the stranger;
+      &ldquo;but if upon reflection you find yourself unable&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was making a mistake,&rdquo; said Mrs. Pennycherry, &ldquo;it should have been two
+      pound ten.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot&mdash;I will not accept such sacrifice,&rdquo; exclaimed the stranger;
+      &ldquo;the three pound ten I can well afford.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two pound ten are my terms,&rdquo; snapped Mrs. Pennycherry. &ldquo;If you are bent
+      on paying more, you can go elsewhere. You&rsquo;ll find plenty to oblige you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her vehemence must have impressed the stranger. &ldquo;We will not contend
+      further,&rdquo; he smiled. &ldquo;I was merely afraid that in the goodness of your
+      heart&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it isn&rsquo;t as good as all that,&rdquo; growled Mrs. Pennycherry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not so sure,&rdquo; returned the stranger. &ldquo;I am somewhat suspicious of
+      you. But wilful woman must, I suppose, have her way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger held out his hand, and to Mrs. Pennycherry, at that moment,
+      it seemed the most natural thing in the world to take it as if it had been
+      the hand of an old friend and to end the interview with a pleasant laugh&mdash;though
+      laughing was an exercise not often indulged in by Mrs. Pennycherry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mary Jane was standing by the window, her hands folded in front of her,
+      when Mrs. Pennycherry re-entered the kitchen. By standing close to the
+      window one caught a glimpse of the trees in Bloomsbury Square and through
+      their bare branches of the sky beyond.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There&rsquo;s nothing much to do for the next half hour, till Cook comes back.
+      I&rsquo;ll see to the door if you&rsquo;d like a run out?&rdquo; suggested Mrs. Pennycherry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be nice,&rdquo; agreed the girl so soon as she had recovered power of
+      speech; &ldquo;it&rsquo;s just the time of day I like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be longer than the half hour,&rdquo; added Mrs. Pennycherry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square, assembled after dinner in the drawing-room,
+      discussed the stranger with that freedom and frankness characteristic of
+      Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square, towards the absent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not what I call a smart young man,&rdquo; was the opinion of Augustus Longcord,
+      who was something in the City.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thpeaking for mythelf,&rdquo; commented his partner Isidore, &ldquo;hav&rsquo;n&rsquo;th any uthe
+      for the thmart young man. Too many of him, ath it ith.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Must be pretty smart if he&rsquo;s one too many for you,&rdquo; laughed his partner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was this to be said for the repartee of Forty-eight Bloomsbury
+      Square: it was simple of construction and easy of comprehension.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well it made me feel good just looking at him,&rdquo; declared Miss Kite, the
+      highly coloured. &ldquo;It was his clothes, I suppose&mdash;made me think of
+      Noah and the ark&mdash;all that sort of thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be clothes that would make you think&mdash;if anything,&rdquo; drawled
+      the languid Miss Devine. She was a tall, handsome girl, engaged at the
+      moment in futile efforts to recline with elegance and comfort combined
+      upon a horsehair sofa. Miss Kite, by reason of having secured the only
+      easy-chair, was unpopular that evening; so that Miss Devine&rsquo;s remark
+      received from the rest of the company more approbation than perhaps it
+      merited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that intended to be clever, dear, or only rude?&rdquo; Miss Kite requested
+      to be informed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Both,&rdquo; claimed Miss Devine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Myself? I must confess,&rdquo; shouted the tall young lady&rsquo;s father, commonly
+      called the Colonel, &ldquo;I found him a fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I noticed you seemed to be getting on very well together,&rdquo; purred his
+      wife, a plump, smiling little lady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Possibly we were,&rdquo; retorted the Colonel. &ldquo;Fate has accustomed me to the
+      society of fools.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t it a pity to start quarrelling immediately after dinner, you two,&rdquo;
+       suggested their thoughtful daughter from the sofa, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ll have nothing
+      left to amuse you for the rest of the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t strike me as a conversationalist,&rdquo; said the lady who was cousin
+      to a baronet; &ldquo;but he did pass the vegetables before he helped himself. A
+      little thing like that shows breeding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or that he didn&rsquo;t know you and thought maybe you&rsquo;d leave him half a
+      spoonful,&rdquo; laughed Augustus the wit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I can&rsquo;t make out about him&mdash;&rdquo; shouted the Colonel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger entered the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Colonel, securing the evening paper, retired into a corner. The highly
+      coloured Kite, reaching down from the mantelpiece a paper fan, held it
+      coyly before her face. Miss Devine sat upright on the horse-hair sofa, and
+      rearranged her skirts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Know anything?&rdquo; demanded Augustus of the stranger, breaking the somewhat
+      remarkable silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger evidently did not understand. It was necessary for Augustus,
+      the witty, to advance further into that odd silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s going to pull off the Lincoln handicap? Tell me, and I&rsquo;ll go out
+      straight and put my shirt upon it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you would act unwisely,&rdquo; smiled the stranger; &ldquo;I am not an
+      authority upon the subject.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not! Why they told me you were Captain Spy of the <i>Sporting Life</i>&mdash;in
+      disguise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It would have been difficult for a joke to fall more flat. Nobody laughed,
+      though why Mr. Augustus Longcord could not understand, and maybe none of
+      his audience could have told him, for at Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square Mr.
+      Augustus Longcord passed as a humorist. The stranger himself appeared
+      unaware that he was being made fun of.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been misinformed,&rdquo; assured him the stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; said Mr. Augustus Longcord.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is nothing,&rdquo; replied the stranger in his sweet low voice, and passed
+      on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well what about this theatre,&rdquo; demanded Mr. Longcord of his friend and
+      partner; &ldquo;do you want to go or don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; Mr. Longcord was feeling
+      irritable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Goth the ticketh&mdash;may ath well,&rdquo; thought Isidore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Damn stupid piece, I&rsquo;m told.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Motht of them thupid, more or leth. Pity to wathte the ticketh,&rdquo; argued
+      Isidore, and the pair went out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you staying long in London?&rdquo; asked Miss Kite, raising her practised
+      eyes towards the stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not long,&rdquo; answered the stranger. &ldquo;At least I do not know. It depends.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      An unusual quiet had invaded the drawing-room of Forty-eight Bloomsbury
+      Square, generally noisy with strident voices about this hour. The Colonel
+      remained engrossed in his paper. Mrs. Devine sat with her plump white
+      hands folded on her lap, whether asleep or not it was impossible to say.
+      The lady who was cousin to a baronet had shifted her chair beneath the
+      gasolier, her eyes bent on her everlasting crochet work. The languid Miss
+      Devine had crossed to the piano, where she sat fingering softly the
+      tuneless keys, her back to the cold barely-furnished room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down!&rdquo; commanded saucily Miss Kite, indicating with her fan the
+      vacant seat beside her. &ldquo;Tell me about yourself. You interest me.&rdquo; Miss
+      Kite adopted a pretty authoritative air towards all youthful-looking
+      members of the opposite sex. It harmonised with the peach complexion and
+      the golden hair, and fitted her about as well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad of that,&rdquo; answered the stranger, taking the chair suggested. &ldquo;I
+      so wish to interest you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You&rsquo;re a very bold boy.&rdquo; Miss Kite lowered her fan, for the purpose of
+      glancing archly over the edge of it, and for the first time encountered
+      the eyes of the stranger looking into hers. And then it was that Miss Kite
+      experienced precisely the same curious sensation that an hour or so ago
+      had troubled Mrs. Pennycherry when the stranger had first bowed to her. It
+      seemed to Miss Kite that she was no longer the Miss Kite that, had she
+      risen and looked into it, the fly-blown mirror over the marble mantelpiece
+      would, she knew, have presented to her view; but quite another Miss Kite&mdash;a
+      cheerful, bright-eyed lady verging on middle age, yet still good-looking
+      in spite of her faded complexion and somewhat thin brown locks. Miss Kite
+      felt a pang of jealousy shoot through her; this middle-aged Miss Kite
+      seemed, on the whole, a more attractive lady. There was a wholesomeness, a
+      broadmindedness about her that instinctively drew one towards her. Not
+      hampered, as Miss Kite herself was, by the necessity of appearing to be
+      somewhere between eighteen and twenty-two, this other Miss Kite could talk
+      sensibly, even brilliantly: one felt it. A thoroughly &ldquo;nice&rdquo; woman this
+      other Miss Kite; the real Miss Kite, though envious, was bound to admit
+      it. Miss Kite wished to goodness she had never seen the woman. The glimpse
+      of her had rendered Miss Kite dissatisfied with herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not a boy,&rdquo; explained the stranger; &ldquo;and I had no intention of being
+      bold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; replied Miss Kite. &ldquo;It was a silly remark. Whatever induced me
+      to make it, I can&rsquo;t think. Getting foolish in my old age, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger laughed. &ldquo;Surely you are not old.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m thirty-nine,&rdquo; snapped out Miss Kite. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t call it young?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it a beautiful age,&rdquo; insisted the stranger; &ldquo;young enough not to
+      have lost the joy of youth, old enough to have learnt sympathy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I daresay,&rdquo; returned Miss Kite, &ldquo;any age you&rsquo;d think beautiful. I&rsquo;m
+      going to bed.&rdquo; Miss Kite rose. The paper fan had somehow got itself
+      broken. She threw the fragments into the fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is early yet,&rdquo; pleaded the stranger, &ldquo;I was looking forward to a talk
+      with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you&rsquo;ll be able to look forward to it,&rdquo; retorted Miss Kite.
+      &ldquo;Good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The truth was, Miss Kite was impatient to have a look at herself in the
+      glass, in her own room with the door shut. The vision of that other Miss
+      Kite&mdash;the clean-looking lady of the pale face and the brown hair had
+      been so vivid, Miss Kite wondered whether temporary forgetfulness might
+      not have fallen upon her while dressing for dinner that evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger, left to his own devices, strolled towards the loo table,
+      seeking something to read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem to have frightened away Miss Kite,&rdquo; remarked the lady who was
+      cousin to a baronet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems so,&rdquo; admitted the stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My cousin, Sir William Bosster,&rdquo; observed the crocheting lady, &ldquo;who
+      married old Lord Egham&rsquo;s niece&mdash;you never met the Eghams?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hitherto,&rdquo; replied the stranger, &ldquo;I have not had that pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A charming family. Cannot understand&mdash;my cousin Sir William, I mean,
+      cannot understand my remaining here. &lsquo;My dear Emily&rsquo;&mdash;he says the
+      same thing every time he sees me: &lsquo;My dear Emily, how can you exist among
+      the sort of people one meets with in a boarding-house.&rsquo; But they amuse
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A sense of humour, agreed the stranger, was always of advantage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our family on my mother&rsquo;s side,&rdquo; continued Sir William&rsquo;s cousin in her
+      placid monotone, &ldquo;was connected with the Tatton-Joneses, who when King
+      George the Fourth&mdash;&rdquo; Sir William&rsquo;s cousin, needing another reel of
+      cotton, glanced up, and met the stranger&rsquo;s gaze.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I don&rsquo;t know why I&rsquo;m telling you all this,&rdquo; said Sir William&rsquo;s
+      cousin in an irritable tone. &ldquo;It can&rsquo;t possibly interest you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything connected with you interests me,&rdquo; gravely the stranger assured
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very kind of you to say so,&rdquo; sighed Sir William&rsquo;s cousin, but
+      without conviction; &ldquo;I am afraid sometimes I bore people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The polite stranger refrained from contradiction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; continued the poor lady, &ldquo;I really am of good family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear lady,&rdquo; said the stranger, &ldquo;your gentle face, your gentle voice, your
+      gentle bearing, all proclaim it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked without flinching into the stranger&rsquo;s eyes, and gradually a
+      smile banished the reigning dulness of her features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How foolish of me.&rdquo; She spoke rather to herself than to the stranger.
+      &ldquo;Why, of course, people&mdash;people whose opinion is worth troubling
+      about&mdash;judge of you by what you are, not by what you go about saying
+      you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger remained silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am the widow of a provincial doctor, with an income of just two hundred
+      and thirty pounds per annum,&rdquo; she argued. &ldquo;The sensible thing for me to do
+      is to make the best of it, and to worry myself about these high and mighty
+      relations of mine as little as they have ever worried themselves about
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger appeared unable to think of anything worth saying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have other connections,&rdquo; remembered Sir William&rsquo;s cousin; &ldquo;those of my
+      poor husband, to whom instead of being the &lsquo;poor relation&rsquo; I could be the
+      fairy god-mama. They are my people&mdash;or would be,&rdquo; added Sir William&rsquo;s
+      cousin tartly, &ldquo;if I wasn&rsquo;t a vulgar snob.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flushed the instant she had said the words and, rising, commenced
+      preparations for a hurried departure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now it seems I am driving you away,&rdquo; sighed the stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Having been called a &lsquo;vulgar snob,&rsquo;&rdquo; retorted the lady with some heat, &ldquo;I
+      think it about time I went.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The words were your own,&rdquo; the stranger reminded her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whatever I may have thought,&rdquo; remarked the indignant dame, &ldquo;no lady&mdash;least
+      of all in the presence of a total stranger&mdash;would have called herself&mdash;&rdquo;
+       The poor dame paused, bewildered. &ldquo;There is something very curious the
+      matter with me this evening, that I cannot understand,&rdquo; she explained, &ldquo;I
+      seem quite unable to avoid insulting myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still surrounded by bewilderment, she wished the stranger good-night,
+      hoping that when next they met she would be more herself. The stranger,
+      hoping so also, opened the door and closed it again behind her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; laughed Miss Devine, who by sheer force of talent was
+      contriving to wring harmony from the reluctant piano, &ldquo;how did you manage
+      to do it? I should like to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did I do what?&rdquo; inquired the stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Contrive to get rid so quickly of those two old frumps?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How well you play!&rdquo; observed the stranger. &ldquo;I knew you had genius for
+      music the moment I saw you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could you tell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is written so clearly in your face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl laughed, well pleased. &ldquo;You seem to have lost no time in studying
+      my face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a beautiful and interesting face,&rdquo; observed the stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She swung round sharply on the stool and their eyes met.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can read faces?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, what else do you read in mine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frankness, courage&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes, all the virtues. Perhaps. We will take them for granted.&rdquo; It was
+      odd how serious the girl had suddenly become. &ldquo;Tell me the reverse side.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see no reverse side,&rdquo; replied the stranger. &ldquo;I see but a fair girl,
+      bursting into noble womanhood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And nothing else? You read no trace of greed, of vanity, of sordidness,
+      of&mdash;&rdquo; An angry laugh escaped her lips. &ldquo;And you are a reader of
+      faces!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A reader of faces.&rdquo; The stranger smiled. &ldquo;Do you know what is written
+      upon yours at this very moment? A love of truth that is almost fierce,
+      scorn of lies, scorn of hypocrisy, the desire for all things pure,
+      contempt of all things that are contemptible&mdash;especially of such
+      things as are contemptible in woman. Tell me, do I not read aright?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I wonder, thought the girl, is that why those two others both hurried from
+      the room? Does everyone feel ashamed of the littleness that is in them
+      when looked at by those clear, believing eyes of yours?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The idea occurred to her: &ldquo;Papa seemed to have a good deal to say to you
+      during dinner. Tell me, what were you talking about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The military looking gentleman upon my left? We talked about your mother
+      principally.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry,&rdquo; returned the girl, wishful now she had not asked the
+      question. &ldquo;I was hoping he might have chosen another topic for the first
+      evening!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He did try one or two,&rdquo; admitted the stranger; &ldquo;but I have been about the
+      world so little, I was glad when he talked to me about himself. I feel we
+      shall be friends. He spoke so nicely, too, about Mrs. Devine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed,&rdquo; commented the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He told me he had been married for twenty years and had never regretted
+      it but once!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her black eyes flashed upon him, but meeting his, the suspicion died from
+      them. She turned aside to hide her smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he regretted it&mdash;once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only once,&rdquo; explained the stranger, &ldquo;in a passing irritable mood. It was
+      so frank of him to admit it. He told me&mdash;I think he has taken a
+      liking to me. Indeed he hinted as much. He said he did not often get an
+      opportunity of talking to a man like myself&mdash;he told me that he and
+      your mother, when they travel together, are always mistaken for a
+      honeymoon couple. Some of the experiences he related to me were really
+      quite amusing.&rdquo; The stranger laughed at recollection of them&mdash;&ldquo;that
+      even here, in this place, they are generally referred to as &lsquo;Darby and
+      Joan.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the girl, &ldquo;that is true. Mr. Longcord gave them that name, the
+      second evening after our arrival. It was considered clever&mdash;but
+      rather obvious I thought myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing&mdash;so it seems to me,&rdquo; said the stranger, &ldquo;is more beautiful
+      than the love that has weathered the storms of life. The sweet, tender
+      blossom that flowers in the heart of the young&mdash;in hearts such as
+      yours&mdash;that, too, is beautiful. The love of the young for the young,
+      that is the beginning of life. But the love of the old for the old, that
+      is the beginning of&mdash;of things longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You seem to find all things beautiful,&rdquo; the girl grumbled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But are not all things beautiful?&rdquo; demanded the stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Colonel had finished his paper. &ldquo;You two are engaged in a very
+      absorbing conversation,&rdquo; observed the Colonel, approaching them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were discussing Darbies and Joans,&rdquo; explained his daughter. &ldquo;How
+      beautiful is the love that has weathered the storms of life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; smiled the Colonel, &ldquo;that is hardly fair. My friend has been
+      repeating to cynical youth the confessions of an amorous husband&rsquo;s
+      affection for his middle-aged and somewhat&mdash;&rdquo; The Colonel in playful
+      mood laid his hand upon the stranger&rsquo;s shoulder, an action that
+      necessitated his looking straight into the stranger&rsquo;s eyes. The Colonel
+      drew himself up stiffly and turned scarlet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Somebody was calling the Colonel a cad. Not only that, but was explaining
+      quite clearly, so that the Colonel could see it for himself, why he was a
+      cad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you and your wife lead a cat and dog existence is a disgrace to both
+      of you. At least you might have the decency to try and hide it from the
+      world&mdash;not make a jest of your shame to every passing stranger. You
+      are a cad, sir, a cad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Who was daring to say these things? Not the stranger, his lips had not
+      moved. Besides, it was not his voice. Indeed it sounded much more like the
+      voice of the Colonel himself. The Colonel looked from the stranger to his
+      daughter, from his daughter back to the stranger. Clearly they had not
+      heard the voice&mdash;a mere hallucination. The Colonel breathed again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet the impression remaining was not to be shaken off. Undoubtedly it was
+      bad taste to have joked to the stranger upon such a subject. No gentleman
+      would have done so.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But then no gentleman would have permitted such a jest to be possible. No
+      gentleman would be forever wrangling with his wife&mdash;certainly never
+      in public. However irritating the woman, a gentleman would have exercised
+      self-control.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Devine had risen, was coming slowly across the room. Fear laid hold
+      of the Colonel. She was going to address some aggravating remark to him&mdash;he
+      could see it in her eye&mdash;which would irritate him into savage retort.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even this prize idiot of a stranger would understand why boarding-house
+      wits had dubbed them &ldquo;Darby and Joan,&rdquo; would grasp the fact that the
+      gallant Colonel had thought it amusing, in conversation with a table
+      acquaintance, to hold his own wife up to ridicule.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; cried the Colonel, hurrying to speak first, &ldquo;does not this room
+      strike you as cold? Let me fetch you a shawl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was useless: the Colonel felt it. It had been too long the custom of
+      both of them to preface with politeness their deadliest insults to each
+      other. She came on, thinking of a suitable reply: suitable from her point
+      of view, that is. In another moment the truth would be out. A wild,
+      fantastic possibility flashed through the Colonel&rsquo;s brain: If to him, why
+      not to her?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Letitia,&rdquo; cried the Colonel, and the tone of his voice surprised her into
+      silence, &ldquo;I want you to look closely at our friend. Does he not remind you
+      of someone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Devine, so urged, looked at the stranger long and hard. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she
+      murmured, turning to her husband, &ldquo;he does, who is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot fix it,&rdquo; replied the Colonel; &ldquo;I thought that maybe you would
+      remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will come to me,&rdquo; mused Mrs. Devine. &ldquo;It is someone&mdash;years ago,
+      when I was a girl&mdash;in Devonshire. Thank you, if it isn&rsquo;t troubling
+      you, Harry. I left it in the dining-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was, as Mr. Augustus Longcord explained to his partner Isidore, the
+      colossal foolishness of the stranger that was the cause of all the
+      trouble. &ldquo;Give me a man, who can take care of himself&mdash;or thinks he
+      can,&rdquo; declared Augustus Longcord, &ldquo;and I am prepared to give a good
+      account of myself. But when a helpless baby refuses even to look at what
+      you call your figures, tells you that your mere word is sufficient for
+      him, and hands you over his cheque-book to fill up for yourself&mdash;well,
+      it isn&rsquo;t playing the game.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Auguthuth,&rdquo; was the curt comment of his partner, &ldquo;you&rsquo;re a fool.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, my boy, you try,&rdquo; suggested Augustus.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jutht what I mean to do,&rdquo; asserted his partner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; demanded Augustus one evening later, meeting Isidore ascending the
+      stairs after a long talk with the stranger in the dining-room with the
+      door shut.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t arth me,&rdquo; retorted Isidore, &ldquo;thilly ath, thath what he ith.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did he say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did he thay! talked about the Jewth: what a grand rathe they were&mdash;how
+      people mithjudged them: all that thort of rot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thaid thome of the motht honorable men he had ever met had been Jewth.
+      Thought I wath one of &lsquo;em!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, did you get anything out of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get anything out of him. Of courthe not. Couldn&rsquo;t very well thell the
+      whole rathe, ath it were, for a couple of hundred poundth, after that.
+      Didn&rsquo;t theem worth it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There were many things Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square came gradually to the
+      conclusion were not worth the doing:&mdash;Snatching at the gravy;
+      pouncing out of one&rsquo;s turn upon the vegetables and helping oneself to more
+      than one&rsquo;s fair share; manoeuvering for the easy-chair; sitting on the
+      evening paper while pretending not to have seen it&mdash;all such-like
+      tiresome bits of business. For the little one made out of it, really it
+      was not worth the bother. Grumbling everlastingly at one&rsquo;s food; grumbling
+      everlastingly at most things; abusing Pennycherry behind her back;
+      abusing, for a change, one&rsquo;s fellow-boarders; squabbling with one&rsquo;s
+      fellow-boarders about nothing in particular; sneering at one&rsquo;s
+      fellow-boarders; talking scandal of one&rsquo;s fellow-boarders; making
+      senseless jokes about one&rsquo;s fellow-boarders; talking big about oneself,
+      nobody believing one&mdash;all such-like vulgarities. Other
+      boarding-houses might indulge in them: Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square had
+      its dignity to consider.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The truth is, Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square was coming to a very good
+      opinion of itself: for the which not Bloomsbury Square so much as the
+      stranger must be blamed. The stranger had arrived at Forty-eight
+      Bloomsbury Square with the preconceived idea&mdash;where obtained from
+      Heaven knows&mdash;that its seemingly commonplace, mean-minded,
+      coarse-fibred occupants were in reality ladies and gentlemen of the first
+      water; and time and observation had apparently only strengthened this
+      absurd idea. The natural result was, Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square was
+      coming round to the stranger&rsquo;s opinion of itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Pennycherry, the stranger would persist in regarding as a lady born
+      and bred, compelled by circumstances over which she had no control to fill
+      an arduous but honorable position of middle-class society&mdash;a sort of
+      foster-mother, to whom were due the thanks and gratitude of her
+      promiscuous family; and this view of herself Mrs. Pennycherry now clung to
+      with obstinate conviction. There were disadvantages attaching, but these
+      Mrs. Pennycherry appeared prepared to suffer cheerfully. A lady born and
+      bred cannot charge other ladies and gentlemen for coals and candles they
+      have never burnt; a foster-mother cannot palm off upon her children New
+      Zealand mutton for Southdown. A mere lodging-house-keeper can play these
+      tricks, and pocket the profits. But a lady feels she cannot: Mrs.
+      Pennycherry felt she no longer could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To the stranger Miss Kite was a witty and delightful conversationalist of
+      most attractive personality. Miss Kite had one failing: it was lack of
+      vanity. She was unaware of her own delicate and refined beauty. If Miss
+      Kite could only see herself with his, the stranger&rsquo;s eyes, the modesty
+      that rendered her distrustful of her natural charms would fall from her.
+      The stranger was so sure of it Miss Kite determined to put it to the test.
+      One evening, an hour before dinner, there entered the drawing-room, when
+      the stranger only was there and before the gas was lighted, a pleasant,
+      good-looking lady, somewhat pale, with neatly-arranged brown hair, who
+      demanded of the stranger if he knew her. All her body was trembling, and
+      her voice seemed inclined to run away from her and become a sob. But when
+      the stranger, looking straight into her eyes, told her that from the
+      likeness he thought she must be Miss Kite&rsquo;s younger sister, but much
+      prettier, it became a laugh instead: and that evening the golden-haired
+      Miss Kite disappeared never to show her high-coloured face again; and what
+      perhaps, more than all else, might have impressed some former habitue of
+      Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square with awe, it was that no one in the house
+      made even a passing inquiry concerning her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir William&rsquo;s cousin the stranger thought an acquisition to any
+      boarding-house. A lady of high-class family! There was nothing outward or
+      visible perhaps to tell you that she was of high-class family. She
+      herself, naturally, would not mention the fact, yet somehow you felt it.
+      Unconsciously she set a high-class tone, diffused an atmosphere of gentle
+      manners. Not that the stranger had said this in so many words; Sir
+      William&rsquo;s cousin gathered that he thought it, and felt herself in
+      agreement with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For Mr. Longcord and his partner, as representatives of the best type of
+      business men, the stranger had a great respect. With what unfortunate
+      results to themselves has been noted. The curious thing is that the Firm
+      appeared content with the price they had paid for the stranger&rsquo;s good
+      opinion&mdash;had even, it was rumoured, acquired a taste for honest men&rsquo;s
+      respect&mdash;that in the long run was likely to cost them dear. But we
+      all have our pet extravagance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Colonel and Mrs. Devine both suffered a good deal at first from the
+      necessity imposed upon them of learning, somewhat late in life, new
+      tricks. In the privacy of their own apartment they condoled with one
+      another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tomfool nonsense,&rdquo; grumbled the Colonel, &ldquo;you and I starting billing and
+      cooing at our age!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I object to,&rdquo; said Mrs. Devine, &ldquo;is the feeling that somehow I am
+      being made to do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The idea that a man and his wife cannot have their little joke together
+      for fear of what some impertinent jackanapes may think of them! it&rsquo;s damn
+      ridiculous,&rdquo; the Colonel exploded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even when he isn&rsquo;t there,&rdquo; said Mrs. Devine, &ldquo;I seem to see him looking
+      at me with those vexing eyes of his. Really the man quite haunts me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have met him somewhere,&rdquo; mused the Colonel, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll swear I&rsquo;ve met him
+      somewhere. I wish to goodness he would go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A hundred things a day the Colonel wanted to say to Mrs. Devine, a hundred
+      things a day Mrs. Devine would have liked to observe to the Colonel. But
+      by the time the opportunity occurred&mdash;when nobody else was by to hear&mdash;all
+      interest in saying them was gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Women will be women,&rdquo; was the sentiment with which the Colonel consoled
+      himself. &ldquo;A man must bear with them&mdash;must never forget that he is a
+      gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well, I suppose they&rsquo;re all alike,&rdquo; laughed Mrs. Devine to herself,
+      having arrived at that stage of despair when one seeks refuge in
+      cheerfulness. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the use of putting oneself out&mdash;it does no
+      good, and only upsets one.&rdquo; There is a certain satisfaction in feeling you
+      are bearing with heroic resignation the irritating follies of others.
+      Colonel and Mrs. Devine came to enjoy the luxury of much self-approbation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the person seriously annoyed by the stranger&rsquo;s bigoted belief in the
+      innate goodness of everyone he came across was the languid, handsome Miss
+      Devine. The stranger would have it that Miss Devine was a noble-souled,
+      high-minded young woman, something midway between a Flora Macdonald and a
+      Joan of Arc. Miss Devine, on the contrary, knew herself to be a sleek,
+      luxury-loving animal, quite willing to sell herself to the bidder who
+      could offer her the finest clothes, the richest foods, the most sumptuous
+      surroundings. Such a bidder was to hand in the person of a retired
+      bookmaker, a somewhat greasy old gentleman, but exceedingly rich and
+      undoubtedly fond of her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Miss Devine, having made up her mind that the thing had got to be done,
+      was anxious that it should be done quickly. And here it was that the
+      stranger&rsquo;s ridiculous opinion of her not only irritated but inconvenienced
+      her. Under the very eyes of a person&mdash;however foolish&mdash;convinced
+      that you are possessed of all the highest attributes of your sex, it is
+      difficult to behave as though actuated by only the basest motives. A dozen
+      times had Miss Devine determined to end the matter by formal acceptance of
+      her elderly admirer&rsquo;s large and flabby hand, and a dozen times&mdash;the
+      vision intervening of the stranger&rsquo;s grave, believing eyes&mdash;had Miss
+      Devine refused decided answer. The stranger would one day depart. Indeed,
+      he had told her himself, he was but a passing traveller. When he was gone
+      it would be easier. So she thought at the time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One afternoon the stranger entered the room where she was standing by the
+      window, looking out upon the bare branches of the trees in Bloomsbury
+      Square. She remembered afterwards, it was just such another foggy
+      afternoon as the afternoon of the stranger&rsquo;s arrival three months before.
+      No one else was in the room. The stranger closed the door, and came
+      towards her with that curious, quick-leaping step of his. His long coat
+      was tightly buttoned, and in his hands he carried his old felt hat and the
+      massive knotted stick that was almost a staff.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have come to say good-bye,&rdquo; explained the stranger. &ldquo;I am going.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall not see you again?&rdquo; asked the girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot say,&rdquo; replied the stranger. &ldquo;But you will think of me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she answered with a smile, &ldquo;I can promise that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I shall always remember you,&rdquo; promised the stranger, &ldquo;and I wish you
+      every joy&mdash;the joy of love, the joy of a happy marriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl winced. &ldquo;Love and marriage are not always the same thing,&rdquo; she
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not always,&rdquo; agreed the stranger, &ldquo;but in your case they will be one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think I have not noticed?&rdquo; smiled the stranger, &ldquo;a gallant,
+      handsome lad, and clever. You love him and he loves you. I could not have
+      gone away without knowing it was well with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her gaze wandered towards the fading light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes, I love him,&rdquo; she answered petulantly. &ldquo;Your eyes can see clearly
+      enough, when they want to. But one does not live on love, in our world. I
+      will tell you the man I am going to marry if you care to know.&rdquo; She would
+      not meet his eyes. She kept her gaze still fixed upon the dingy trees, the
+      mist beyond, and spoke rapidly and vehemently: &ldquo;The man who can give me
+      all my soul&rsquo;s desire&mdash;money and the things that money can buy. You
+      think me a woman, I&rsquo;m only a pig. He is moist, and breathes like a
+      porpoise; with cunning in place of a brain, and the rest of him mere
+      stomach. But he is good enough for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hoped this would shock the stranger and that now, perhaps, he would
+      go. It irritated her to hear him only laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you will not marry him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who will stop me?&rdquo; she cried angrily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Better Self.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice had a strange ring of authority, compelling her to turn and look
+      upon his face. Yes, it was true, the fancy that from the very first had
+      haunted her. She had met him, talked to him&mdash;in silent country roads,
+      in crowded city streets, where was it? And always in talking with him her
+      spirit had been lifted up: she had been&mdash;what he had always thought
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are those,&rdquo; continued the stranger (and for the first time she saw
+      that he was of a noble presence, that his gentle, child-like eyes could
+      also command), &ldquo;whose Better Self lies slain by their own hand and
+      troubles them no more. But yours, my child, you have let grow too strong;
+      it will ever be your master. You must obey. Flee from it and it will
+      follow you; you cannot escape it. Insult it and it will chastise you with
+      burning shame, with stinging self-reproach from day to day.&rdquo; The sternness
+      faded from the beautiful face, the tenderness crept back. He laid his hand
+      upon the young girl&rsquo;s shoulder. &ldquo;You will marry your lover,&rdquo; he smiled.
+      &ldquo;With him you will walk the way of sunlight and of shadow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the girl, looking up into the strong, calm face, knew that it would be
+      so, that the power of resisting her Better Self had passed away from her
+      for ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said the stranger, &ldquo;come to the door with me. Leave-takings are but
+      wasted sadness. Let me pass out quietly. Close the door softly behind me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She thought that perhaps he would turn his face again, but she saw no more
+      of him than the odd roundness of his back under the tightly buttoned coat,
+      before he faded into the gathering fog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then softly she closed the door.
+    </p>
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 865 ***</div>
+  </body>
+</html>
+
diff --git a/865-h/images/cover.jpg b/865-h/images/cover.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c5e8071
--- /dev/null
+++ b/865-h/images/cover.jpg