“I want it written in the first person, of course—­if that’s what you mean?”

Again Mr Benny nodded, “I see,” said he.  “You’re here on behalf of a friend, who is too bashful to come on his own account.”

“You may put it at that,” agreed Cai, greatly relieved.  “I told you the case was a bit out o’ the common!”

Mr Benny’s smile was still strictly professional.  “It’s not outside of my experience, sir; so far, at any rate.  May I take your friend to be of your own age, more or less?”

Cai nodded.  “You’re pretty quick at guessin’, I must say.”

“A trifle rusty, I fear, for want of practice. . . .  But it will come back. . .  Now for the lady.  Spinster or widow?”

“Does that matter?”

“It helps, in a letter.”

“We’ll put it, then, as she’s a widow.”

“Age? . . .  There, there!  I’m not asking you to be definite, of course:  but to give me a little general guidance.  For instance, would she be about your friend’s age?  Or younger, shall we say?”

“Younger.”

“Considerably?”

“I don’t see as you need lay stress on that.”

“You may be sure I shall not,” said Mr Benny, jotting down “Younger, considerably” on his writing pad.  “Moreover we can tone down or remove anything that strikes you as unhappily worded in our first draft.  Trade, profession, or occupation, if any?” Seeing that Cai hesitated, “The more candid your friend is, between these four walls,” added Mr Benny, extracting a hair from his pen, “the more persuasive we are likely to be.”

“You may set down that she keeps a farm.”

“Independent means?”

“Well, yes, as it happens.  Not that—­”

“To be sure—­to be sure!  When the affections are engaged, that doesn’t weigh.  Not, at any rate, with your friend.  Still it may influence what I will call, Captain Hocken, the style of the approach.  Style, sir, has been defined by my brother, Mr Joshua Benny—­You may have heard of him, by the way, as being prominently connected with the London press. . . .  No?  A man of remarkable talent, though I say it.  They tell me that for lightness of touch in a Descriptive Middle, it would be hard to find his match in Fleet Street. . . .  As I was saying, sir, my brother Joshua has defined style as the art of speaking or writing with propriety, whatever the subject.  By propriety, sir, he means what is ordinarily termed appropriateness.  Impropriety, in the sense of indelicacy, is out of the question in—­a—­a communication of this kind.  Strict appropriateness, on the other hand, is not always easy to capture.  May I take it that your friend has—­er—­enjoyed a seafaring past?”

Cai gazed blankly at him for a short while, and broke into a simple hearty laugh.

“Why, of course,” said he, “you’re thinking of my friend ’Bias Hunken! 
I almost took ye for a conjuror, first-along—­upon my word I did! 
But once I get the drift o’ your cunning, ’tis easy as easy.” 
He gazed at Mr Benny and winked knowingly.