"He is a stranger in Annapolis."
"I know that."
"And what else?"
"What my eyes saw—graceful, easy, handsome, a man of the world."
"Oh, you women! Graceful, easy, handsome, a man of the world! You judge by externals."
"And pray, sir, what else had I to judge by?" springing up; "I but saw him—you spoke with him. How far am I amiss?"
The Governor smiled. "Not by the fraction of a hair, so far as I can make it," he said. "He is Sir Edward Parkington, come from London for his pleasure. He brought with him letters of introduction to Mr. Dulany and myself. He seems to have been in a rather hard case, too. He took passage from The Capes to Annapolis in The Sally, a bark of small tonnage and worse sail. They ran into a storm; the bark foundered, and all on board were lost, except Parkington; or, at least, he saw none when, more dead than alive, he was cast ashore near Saint Mary's."
"The poor fellow! Did he lose everything?"
"Everything but the letters, which were in his pocket—and his charm of manner and good looks."