son, with his iron-grey hair, his clear-cut features, somewhat marred
in effect by a certain shiftiness of the mouth, and his large dark eyes.
Morris had those dark eyes also--they redeemed his face from plainness,
for otherwise it showed no beauty, the features being too irregular, the
brow too prominent, and the mouth too large. Yet it could boast what, in
the case of a man at any rate, is better than beauty--spirituality,
and a certain sympathetic charm. It was not the face which was so
attractive, but rather the intelligence, the personality that shone
through it, as the light shines through the horn panes of some homely,
massive lantern. Speculative eyes of the sort that seem to search
horizons and gather knowledge there, but shrink from the faces of women;
a head of brown hair, short cut but untidy, an athletic, manlike form to
which, bizarrely enough, a slight stoop, the stoop of a student, seemed
to give distinction, and hands slender and shapely as those of an
Eastern--such were the characteristics of Morris Monk, or at least those
of them that the observer was apt to notice.

"Hullo! Morris, are you star-gazing there?" said Colonel Monk, with a
yawn. "I suppose that I must have fallen asleep after dinner--that comes
of stopping too long at once in the country and drinking port. I notice
you never touch it, and a good thing, too. There, my cigar is out. Now's
the time for that new electric lighter of yours which I can never make
work."

Morris fumbled in his pocket and produced the lighter. Then he said:

"I am sorry, father; but I believe I forgot to charge it."

"Ah! that's just like you, if you will forgive my saying so. You take
any amount of trouble to invent and perfect a thing, but when it comes