It was more than twelve months since Malkin's departure from England. Though sun and sea had doubtless contributed to his robustness, he must always have been a fair example of the vigorous Briton. His broad shoulders, upright bearing, open countenance, and frank resonant voice, declared a youth passed amid the wholesome conditions which wealth alone can command. The hearty extravagance of his friendliness was only possible in a man who has never been humiliated by circumstances, never restricted in his natural needs of body and mind. Yet he had more than the heartiness of a contented Englishman. The vivacity which made a whirlwind about him probably indicated some ancestral mingling with the blood of a more ardent race. Earwaker examined him with a smile of pleasure. 'It's unfortunate,' he said, 'that I have to go out to dinner.' 'Dinner! Pooh! we can get dinner anywhere.' 'No doubt, but I am engaged.' 'The devil you are! Who is she? Why didn't you write to tell me?' 'The word has a less specific meaning, my dear fellow,' replied Earwaker, laughing. 'Only you of all men would have rushed at the wrong one. I mean to say--if your excitement can take in so common a fact--that I have promised to dine with some people at Notting Hill, and mustn't disappoint them.' Malkin laughed at his mistake, then shouted: 'Notting Hill! Isn't that somewhere near Fulham? We'll take a cab, and I can drop you on my way.' 'It wouldn't be on the way at all.' The journalist's quiet explanation was cut short by a petulant outcry. 'Oh, very well! Of course if you want to get rid of me! I should have thought after sixteen months'-- 'Don't be idiotic,' broke in the other. 'There's a strong feminine element in you, Malkin; that's exactly the kind of talk with which women drive men to frenzy.' 'Feminine element!' shouted the traveller with hot face. 'What do you mean? I propose to take a cab with you, and you'-- Earwaker turned away laughing. 'Time and distance are nothing to you, and I shall be very glad of your company. Come by all means.' His friend was instantly appeased. 'Don't let me make you late, Earwaker. Must we start this moment? Come along, then. Can I carry anything for you? Lord! if you could only see a tropical forest! How do you get on with old Runcorn? _Write_? What the devil was the use of my writing, when words are powerless to describe--? What a rum old place this seems, after experiences like mine; how the deuce can you live here? I say, I've brought you a ton of curiosities; will make your rooms look like a museum. Confound it! I've broken my shin against the turn in the staircase! Whew! Who are you going to dine with?--Moxey? Never heard the name.' In Holborn a hansom was hailed, and the friends continued their dialogue as they drove westward. Having at length effervesced, Malkin began to exchange question and answer with something of the calm needful for mutual intelligibility. 'And how do you get on with old Runcorn?'