“Oh, how can you say such wicked things?” cried Clytie. “Of course he hasn't!” “One never knows, my dear. Men are the most unreasonable beings in the world. With a woman, now, if you know just the least little bit about her,--it isn't everybody, of course, that does,--you can always tell what she is likely to do. But with a man--never. Do you think I know whether that husband of mine is going to be pleased with his dinner to-night? No, not one scrap. And Kent's a man--just like the rest of them.” “Are you talking about Kent?” interposed Mr. Farquharson. “I saw him the other night at the meeting of the Numismatic Society.” “There, now! How like a man! And you knew I wanted to know what had become of him. What had he to say for himself?” “That most of the rude coins marked with the name of Alfred were in reality imitations made by the vikings during their periodical visits to this country. His remarks were very interesting, my dear.” “Thornton,” said Mrs. Farquharson in her blandest tones, “would you be so very kind as to light the gas?” Her husband chuckled to himself, and Hammerdyke rose to comply with her request. During the operation all the three mechanically watched his movements. “There!” he said, turning to face them, “I think that is better; we shall be able to see one another.” As the full blaze fell upon him Clytie could not repress a little feminine thrill of surprise. Seen in the vague darkness she had imagined him quite different. He seemed to spring out of it a perfect type of physical manhood. He bore with him an atmosphere of splendid animalism. The artist in Clytie, trained to detect beauties of limb and set and fall of muscle, scanned him for a second with involuntary admiration. Although he was dressed with a fashionable tailor's perfection of fit, which generally gives suave uniformity to strong and puny, his clothes could not conceal the evidences of a magnificent strength--deep chest, arms that seemed to fit tightly the coat-sleeves, broad, massive shoulders, thick, powerful neck. He held his head high, commandingly, which gave him the appearance of tallness, although he was not much above medium height. Shortcut brown hair, clinging close to his head in crisp waves, a broad forehead with two thick vertical veins, added to this impression of strength. In spite of his thirty-four years the blood showed beneath his bronzed skin, on which there were few lines. His features, although on a large scale, were saved from coarseness by regularity. His under jaw was slightly heavy, but in keeping with the massiveness of his limbs. His eyes were dark and lustrous, with a light burning in their depths; his teeth white and even.