young man with a mild face, rather expressionless. His hair and eyes were brown. He was irreproachably dressed, and did not appear to have much brain power. Also, from the expression of his eyes he was of a sly nature. Finally, Mr. Beryl was guarded in his speech, being quite of the opinion that speech was given to hide thoughts. He saluted his uncle affectionately, kissed Lucy's cheek in a cold way, and sat down to observe what a damp, dull day it was and how bad for Sir Simon's rheumatism. A more colorless, timid, meek young saint it would have been hard to find in the whole of London.

[pg 33]

"I have brought you some special snuff," he said, extending a packet to his host. "It comes from Taberley's."

"Ah, thank you. I know the shop. A very good one! Do you get your cigars there, Julius?"

"I never smoke," corrected the good young man, coldly.

Sir Simon sneered. "You never do anything manly," he said contemptuously. "Well, why are you here?"

"I wish, with your permission, to take Lucy to the theatre on Friday," said Mr. Beryl. "Mrs. Webber is going with me, and she can act as chaperon."

"I should think she needed one herself. A nasty, flirting little cat of a woman," said Sir Simon, rudely. "Would you like to go, Lucy?"

"If you don't mind, uncle."

"Bah!" said the old man with a snarl. "How good you two are. Where is the theatre, Julius?"

[pg 34] "Near at hand. The Curtain Theatre."

[pg 34]

"Ah! That's only two streets away. What is the play?"

"As You Like It, by—"

"By Chaucer, I suppose," snapped the old man. "Don't you think I know my Shakespeare? What time will you call for Lucy?"

"At half-past seven in the carriage with Mrs. Webber."

"Your own carriage?"

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