The day is already half over. . Her family are solid West End people, Kensington people. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. His name was Peter. ‘Now then, Gerald, out with it. How came you to know it? Have you heard the name before?" "I think I have—long, long ago, when I was a child," replied Mrs. Both had dropped the rather elaborate politeness of the dining-room, and in their faces an impartial observer would have discovered little lines of obstinate wilfulness in common; a certain hardness—sharp, indeed, in the father and softly rounded in the daughter—but hardness nevertheless, that made every compromise a bargain and every charity a discount. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar.
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