As he stepped out into the shine of the street, and took step from his friend, he said: “By George! it makes me feel young again. It is just like old times.” “Yes, it does make one feel jollier, doesn't it?” “How jolly it is here; not too warm, just nice. What shall we do? Sit down on that bench in front of the pier?” “I'm agreeable. How jolly it is. Just look at those boats! One could make a picture of that.” Over the sea hung a white veil of mist, but the sun glowed through and melted into it, and harmonised it with the water green and translucent. The sea sucked about the shingle with little sudden sighs; the sails of the pleasure boat waved in the fairy-like depths, and all the little brown fishing-boats lay becalmed, heaving tremulously like tired butterflies upon the breast of a blue flower. The nursemaids lay together on the shingle, and their novels slipped down the stones to their feet. The children played with the tide and the sand. There were crowds of women--Jewesses with loud dresses: and the strange world of bath chairs! Ladies so old that they seem certain to fall to pieces when they are taken out; ladies with chestnut curls soft and fresh--why were they in bath chairs? General officers, mounted on white Arabs; acrobats and songs. The young men sat facing the sea. Frank called, “Triss, Triss. Splendid dog that is. If I were to let him he would guzzle the other dog in about two minutes.” “He looks a ferocious brute.” “You don't like dogs? You couldn't see a handsomer dog than that; unfortunately, he's the wrong colour; if he were brindle or white, he'd take a first prize. Come here, you brute.” Amid some little excitement and anxious looks, Triss came up, growling and showing his teeth. Frank explained that it was only his manner. Frank took the paw that was extended to him, but Triss's friendliness seemed somewhat dubious, for he still further uncovered his formidable fangs. “I really don't care to sit here with that ferocious brute.” “I assure you he won't bite, it is only his manner. Isn't it, Triss? Kiss me, kiss me at once,” and amid many growls of almost subterranean awfulness, the dog licked his master's face. “I wish you would tie him up--to oblige me.” Highly pleased at the fear and wonder his dog had struck in the gaudy Jewesses and the shaky generals, Frank threatened and finally forced the dog to lie down. He continued to expatiate on the dog's points--the number of wrinkles, the bandiness of the legs, etc. The conversation dropped in heat and glare, and the picturesqueness of the sea. “How horribly out of tune you do whistle--you go into a different key; this is more like it.”