Under an over-hanging bush was a punt, and in the punt were Augustus and the lady known as Mrs. Harris.

The bush met the bank at the side toward his wife, but at the other side, facing Dearman, there was an open space and so he had seen and she had not.  Returning, he had drawn her attention to something on the opposite bank.  This had been unnecessary, however, as Augustus had effected a change of venue without delay.  And now he did not want his wife to witness the return of the couple and learn of the duplicity of her snatched Brand.

(He’d “brand” him anon!)

* * * * *

Augustus Clarence Percy Marmaduke Grobble sat in the long cane chair in his sitting-room, a glass beside him, a cigarette between his lips, a fleshly poet in his hand, and a reminiscent smile upon his flushed face.

She undoubtedly was a spanker.  Knew precisely how many beans make five.  A woman of the world, that.  Been about.  Knew things.  Sort of woman one could tell a good story to—­and get one back.  Life!  Life!  Knew it up and down, in and out.  Damn reformation, teetotality, the earnest, and the strenuous.  Good women were unmitigated bores, and he....  A sharp knock at the door.

“Kon hai?"[47] he called. “Under ao."[48]

  [47] Who’s there.
  [48] Come in.

The door opened and large Mr. Dearman walked in.  He bore a nasty-looking malacca cane in his hand—­somewhat ostentatiously.

“Hullo, Dearman!” said Augustus after a decidedly startled and anxious look.  “What is it?  Sit down.  I’m just back from College.  Have a drink?”

Large Mr. Dearman considered these things seriatim.

“I will sit down as I want a talk with you.  You are a liar in the matter of just being back from College.  I will not have a drink.”  He then lapsed into silence and looked at Augustus very straight and very queerly, while bending the nasty malacca suggestively.  The knees of Augustus smote together.

Good God!  It had come at last!  The thrashing he had so often earned was at hand.  What should he do?  What should he do!

Dearman thought the young man was about to faint.

“Fine malacca that, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Ye-yes!”

“Swishy, supple, tough.”

“Ye-yes!” (How could the brute be such a fool as to be jealous now—­now when it was all cooling off and coming to an end?)

“Grand stick to thrash a naughty boy with, what?”

“Ye-yes!—­Dearman, I swear before God that there is nothing between me and——­”

“Shut up, you infernal God-forsaken cub, or I shall have to whip you.  I——­”

“Dearman, if you are jealous of me——­”

“Better be quiet and listen, or I shall get cross, and you’ll get hurt....  You have given us the pleasure of a great deal of your company this year, and I have come to ask you——­”