"I was going to say poetical. Suppose there's a girl—"
He paused, and looked down at the water. Jimmy was sympathetic with this mood of contemplation, for in his case, too, there was a girl.
"I saw my party off in a taxi," continued Lord Dreever, "and came down here for a smoke; only, I hadn't a match. Have you—?"
Jimmy handed over his match-box. Lord Dreever lighted a cigar, and fixed his gaze once more on the river.
"Ripping it looks," he said.
Jimmy nodded.
"Funny thing," said Lord Dreever. "In the daytime, the water here looks all muddy and beastly. Damn' depressing, I call it. But at night—." He paused. "I say," he went on after a moment, "Did you see the girl I was with at the Savoy?"
"Yes," said Jimmy.
"She's a ripper," said Lord Dreever, devoutly.
On the Thames Embankment, in the small hours of a summer morning, there is no such thing as a stranger. The man you talk with is a friend, and, if he will listen—as, by the etiquette of the place, he must—you may pour out your heart to him without restraint. It is expected of you!
"I'm fearfully in love with her," said his lordship.
"She looked a charming girl," said Jimmy.
They examined the water in silence. From some-
