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“A ed,” pointed out Mr Satterthwaite “One does not take his sincerities seriously”

The doctor nodded

“Yes,” he said thoughtfully “That’s true”

With a cheerful halloo Charles Cartwright ran up the steps onto the terrace

“Mirabelle surpassed herself,” he said “You ought to have come, Satterthwaite”

Mr Satterthwaite shook his head He had suffered too often crossing the Channel to have any illusions about the strength of his stomach afloat He had observed the Mirabelle fro There had been a stiff sailing breeze and Mr Satterthwaite had thanked heaven devoutly for dry land

Sir Charles went to the drawing roomand called for drinks

“You ought to have come, Tollie,” he said to his friend “Don’t you spend half your life sitting in Harley Street telling your patients how good life on the ocean ould be for them?”

“The greata doctor,” said Sir Bartholoed to follow your own advice”

Sir Charles laughed He was still unconsciously playing his part—the bluff breezy Navalman, beautifully proportioned, with a lean humorou

s face, and the touch of grey at his teave hientleman first and an actor second

“Did you go alone?” asked the doctor

“No,” Sir Charles turned to take his drink fro a tray “I had a ‘hand’ The girl Egg, to be exact”

There was so, some faint trace of self-consciousness in his voice which made Mr Satterthwaite look up sharply

“Miss Lytton Gore? She knows so, doesn’t she?”

Sir Charles laughed rather ruefully

“She succeeds inon—thanks to her”

Thoughts slipped quickly in and out of Mr Satterthwaite’s mind