helping. It required no common loyalty to lost causes and ruined
ideals--it is surely not harsh to indicate Captain Cranster by these
terms?--to resist Alec Naylor. In fact he had almost taken Cynthia's
breath away at their first meeting; she thought that she had never seen
anything quite so magnificent, or--all round and from all points of view,
so romantic; his stature, handsomeness, limp, renown. Who can be
surprised at it? Moreover, he was modest and simple, and no fool within
the bounds of his experience.

"She seems a nice little girl, that, and uncommon pretty," Naylor
remarked.

"Yes, but he's a queer fish, I fancy," the Doctor answered, also rather
absently. Their minds were not running on parallel lines.

"My boy a queer fish?" Naylor expostulated humorously.

Irechester smiled; his lips shut close and tight, his smile was quick but
narrow. "You're matchmaking. I was diagnosing," he said.

Naylor apologized. "I've a desperate instinct to fit all these young
fellows up with mates as soon as possible. Isn't it only fair?"

"And also extremely expedient. But it's the sort of thing you can leave
to them, can't you?"

"As to Beaumaroy--I suppose you meant him, not Alec--I think you must
have been talking to old Tom Punnit--or, rather, hearing him talk."

"Punnit's general view is sound enough, I think, as to the man's