met, he began to butter her up, and tell her how beautiful she was. Why,
before he left her side, he had asked himself to tea to-morrow at Mercy
Farm. Stupid ass! He might see that the girl isn't his sort! I never
saw anything like it. It was just like a hawk and a pigeon."

As he spoke, Sir Nathaniel turned and looked at Mr. Salton--a keen look
which implied a full understanding.

"Tell us all about it, Adam. There are still a few minutes before
dinner, and we shall all have better appetites when we have come to some
conclusion on this matter."

"There is nothing to tell, sir; that is the worst of it. I am bound to
say that there was not a word said that a human being could object to. He
was very civil, and all that was proper--just what a landlord might be to
a tenant's daughter . . . Yet--yet--well, I don't know how it was, but it
made my blood boil."

"How did the hawk and the pigeon come in?" Sir Nathaniel's voice was
soft and soothing, nothing of contradiction or overdone curiosity in it--a
tone eminently suited to win confidence.

"I can hardly explain. I can only say that he looked like a hawk and she
like a dove--and, now that I think of it, that is what they each did look
like; and do look like in their normal condition."

"That is so!" came the soft voice of Sir Nathaniel.

Adam went on: