"Of course, of course!" I said to myself impatiently, "I may as well expect to find everything as much improved from what it was in my time as in, say, sixty years before. That sort of progress goes faster and faster. Things change, but people--" And here is where I got this creepy sense of unreality. At first everything was so strange to me, and my sister was so kind and thoughtful, so exquisitely considerate of my feelings and condition, that I had failed to notice this remarkable circumstance--so were the other people. It was like being in a--well, in a house-party of very nice persons. Kind, cheerful, polite--here I suddenly realized that I had not seen a grouchy face, heard an unkind remark, felt, as one does feel through silk and broadcloth, the sense of discontent and disapproval. There was one, the somewhat hard-faced old lady, Mrs. Talbot, of whom I had hopes. I sought her, and laid myself out to please her by those little attentions which are so grateful to an elderly woman from a young man. Her accepting these as a commonplace, her somewhat too specific inquiries about my health, suddenly reminded me that I was not a young man---- She talked on while I made again that effort at readjustment which was so hideously hard. Gone in a night--all my young manhood--gone untasted! "Do you find it difficult to concentrate your attention?" she was saying, a steely eye fixed upon my face. "I beg your pardon, madam. I fear I do. You were saying--" "I was saying that you will find many changes when you get back." "I find them already, Mrs. Talbot. They rather loom up. It is sudden, you see." "Yes, you've been away a long time, I understand. In the far East?" Mrs. Talbot was the first person who had asked me a question. Evidently hers were the manners of an older generation, and for once I had to admit that the younger generation had improved. But I recalled the old defensive armor against the old assaults. "Quite a while," I answered cheerfully, "Quite a while. Now what should you think would impress me most--in the way of change?" "The women," she answered promptly. I smiled my gallantest, and replied, bowing: "I find them still charming." Her set face broke into a pleased smile. "You do my heart good!" she cried. "I haven't heard a compliment in fifteen years." "Good Heavens, madam! what are our men thinking of?" "It's not the men's fault; it's the women's. They won't have it." "Are there many of these--new women?" "There's nothing else--except a few old ones like me." I hastened to assure her that a woman like her would never be called old--and she looked as pleased as a girl. Presently I excused myself and left her, with relief. It was annoying beyond measure to have the only specimen of the kind of woman I used to like turn out to be personally the kind I never liked. On the opposite deck, I found Miss Elwell--and for once alone. A retiring back, wearing an aggrieved expression showed that it had not been for long.