"No, perhaps not. Still, this man reminds me of him. There is always the feeling that he's keeping something back. Somehow, I don't know why, but the fellow got on my nerves this morning. I was always seeing a double meaning in everything he said. Why, do you know at one time I positively feared him. I seemed to be playing for some fearful stake. I was reminded of that picture where a man plays chess with the devil for his soul. Then every now and then I fancied it was Leicester who was speaking. Yes, I know it was not Leicester's voice, neither is he like what Leicester was. His eyes are different, and of course his face is different. Leicester's face was pale as death; it was thin, too, and suggested the Greeks; this man, with his great black beard and dark skin, is different from what Leicester was; and yet sometimes he was like Leicester. Don't you remember that Oxford insolence of Leicester's which used to madden some people, and how while saying the most innocent-sounding things he was just laughing at them all the time? That's what I felt about this fellow. He speaks English with a foreign accent, and yet I felt sometimes as though he knew England well."
"Probably he does."
"He says he's only been in the country three months."
"You saw him go away with——"
"Yes, I saw him. That young fellow who was with her introduced him. By the way, do you think she was near enough to know who we were?"
"I should think not. They moved away directly the stranger came up."
"We shall see her at the concert to-morrow night, I suppose. My word, Purvis, I feel nervous."
"Give it up, Sprague—give it up, man. You asked her years ago, and she refused you. What has happened since is not likely to endear you to her."
"Rather I think it is. Do you know I have a feeling that she is thankful to me now?"
"By the way, I should like you to challenge this Signor Ricordo to golf to-morrow. I will get a match with some one in the morning, and then during the afternoon we can play a foursome."