hand when she touched him, one would have said that she really and truly
loved him, and that it needed no lure of gold to draw this particular
May to the arms of this one December.

He found Captain Travers a laughing, rollicking, fun-loving type of
man--at least, to all outward appearances--who seemed to delight in
sports and games and to have an almost childish love of card tricks and
that species of entertainment which is known as parlour magic. He found
the three other members of the little house-party--to wit: Mrs.
Somerby-Miles, Lieutenant Forshay, and Mr. Robert Murdock--respectively,
a silly, flirtatious, little gadfly of a widow; a callow, love-struck,
lap-dog, young army officer, with a budding moustache and a full-blown
idea of his own importance; and a dour Scotchman of middle age, with a
passion for chess, a glowering scorn of frivolities, and a deep and
abiding conviction that Scotland was the only country in the world for a
self-respecting human being to dwell in, and that everything outside of
the Established Church was foredoomed to flames and sulphur and the
perpetual prodding of red-hot pitchforks. And last, but not least by any
means, he found Mr. Michael Bawdrey just what he had been told he would
find him, namely, a dear, lovable, sunny-tempered old man, who fairly
idolised his young wife and absolutely adored his frank-faced,
affectionate, big boy of a son, and who ought not, in the common course
of things, to have an enemy or an evil wisher in all the world.

The news, which, of course, had preceded Cleek's arrival, that this
whilom college chum of his son's was as great an enthusiast as he
himself on the subject of old china, old porcelain, bric-à-brac and
curios of every sort, filled him with the utmost delight, and he could
scarcely refrain from rushing him off at once to view his famous
collection.