of--I don't know how to put it."

"Mushy?" said Jimmy.

"I was going to say poetical. Suppose there's a girl--"

He paused, and looked down at the water. Jimmy was sympathetic with
this mood of contemplation, for in his case, too, there was a girl.

"I saw my party off in a taxi," continued Lord Dreever, "and came
down here for a smoke; only, I hadn't a match. Have you--?"

Jimmy handed over his match-box. Lord Dreever lighted a cigar, and
fixed his gaze once more on the river.

"Ripping it looks," he said.

Jimmy nodded.

"Funny thing," said Lord Dreever. "In the daytime, the water here
looks all muddy and beastly. Damn' depressing, I call it. But at
night--" He paused. "I say," he went on after a moment, "Did you see
the girl I was with at the Savoy?"

"Yes," said Jimmy.

"She's a ripper," said Lord Dreever, devoutly.

On the Thames Embankment, in the small hours of a summer morning,
there is no such thing as a stranger. The man you talk with is a