Mr. Brookes stopped in his walk, and he looked at Berkins, who stood, his hand laid upon the billiard table as upon a huge balance sheet. The word business had carried the men back to their offices in London, and, quite forgetful of the subject of their bargaining, each strove to obtain an advantage over the other. “Well, let us say two hundred and fifty, that is my last word.” “Then, Mr. Brookes, I will not take your daughter.” III “Willy, make haste, I beg of you; I shall miss my train. It is now exactly half-past nine.” “You had better go without me; I cannot start now. I haven't nearly got my things together.” “Very well, very well.” Willy walked from room to room tying and untying brown paper parcels in his most methodical and most dilatory manner. His sisters stood watching him from the drawing-room door. “Did father tell you nothing when Berkins left? They had a row, hadn't they? It isn't off, is it?” “I wish you would not speak so loud, Sally; you can be heard all over the house.” “Do tell us.” “But I don't know. Father was very much upset. I couldn't speak to him about my own business, I know that.” “Well, I suppose we shall hear about it to-night. You are going to meet Frank in Brighton, aren't you?” “Yes; he is coming to lunch with me.” “Don't keep him all day; send him on here, we might have a game of tennis.” Willy did not answer; and he thought as he went upstairs, what a trouble young girls were in a house. “They think of nothing but pleasure, nothing but pleasure.” One, two, or three more delays, and he was ready, and with his brown paper parcel tucked under his arm he set forth. Upon the young blue of the sky, the fresh green of the buds melted. There were a few elms, but hardly enough to constitute an avenue. The house looked as if it had been repeatedly altered. It ran into unexpected corners and angles; but it was far enough from the road to justify a gate lodge. The swards were interspersed with shrubs in the most modern fashion, and the sumptuous glass-houses could be seen gleaming in the sun. It was a hot day, and the brick wall was dappled with hanging foliage, and further out, opposite the windows of the “Stag and Hounds,” where Steyning's ales could be obtained, the over-reaching sprays of a great chestnut tree fell in delicate tracery on the white dust. The road led under the railway embankment, and looking through the arched opening, one could see the dirty town, straggling along the canal or harbour, which runs parallel with the sea. A black stain was the hull of a great steamer lying on her side in the mud, but the tapering masts of yachts were beautiful on the sky, and at the end of a row of slatternly houses there were sometimes spars and rigging so strange and bygone that they suggested Drake and the Spanish main.