"At least," said Julien in a voice which threatened to get out of control, "you'll know that it wasn't all masquerade.

"The very same," responded Julien with twinkling eyes.

I hope we shall spend many a summer evening on the lawn, Jack, with a bottle of Pomard or St. Julien between us, watching the drowsy old anglers in their punts, and the swift outriggers flashing past in the twilight.