“My lovely Poll at Portsmouth,
    When in my arms I caught her,
  Was worth a hundred foreign gals
    On the t’other side the water”—­

a sentiment which was tumultuously applauded, although few of the men present had travelled, and those who were married were probably not so rapturously in love with their own domestic Polls.

Andrew was not quite comfortable, but Miriam applauded with the rest.

“How cleverly,” she said, “he manages, although he is a gentleman, born and bred, to adapt himself to the people beneath him.  It is a pity, though, that he hasn’t a better sphere for his talents.”

When they came out, Mr. Montgomery accompanied them home; and as it was night, and the streets were crowded with rather rough and disorderly persons, he offered Miriam his arm, Andrew walking on the other side of her.

“I was half ashamed, Miss Tacchi, that you should see me go through such a performance.”

“There was nothing objectionable in it; and for that matter, we all have to do what we do not quite like.  I am sure it was very good of you to let us come, and I enjoyed myself very much.  By the way, when you sing any of the songs, which are not comic, do you feel them?  I often wonder if a professional gentleman who can produce such an effect on others, produces anything like the same effect on himself.”

“It depends upon the mood.  Do you know now that when I was singing to-night that stupid thing about the sailor and his Portsmouth Poll, it all at once came to my mind that no Portsmouth Poll would ever wait for me.  Did you ever hear anything so ridiculously absurd—­such a bit of maudlin nonsense.  I laughed at myself afterwards.  It gave me a good, idea, though.  I’ll compose a burlesque, and the refrain shall be, weeping—­

  “No Po-o-ortsmouth Poll is a-waiting for me.”

“I don’t think it was absurd,” said Miriam gravely.

“You don’t?” he replied, in a suddenly changed tone.

“No.”

“The path is rather narrow here; you had better come a little closer.”  He took her hand, and pulled her arm a little further through his own.  Was it fancy or not?  He thought he detected that the pressure on his arm was increased.  When they reached Nelson Square they had supper, and after supper Andrew and Montgomery, according to custom, enjoyed themselves over the tobacco and whisky.  Miriam knew well enough, long before they separated, that it was time for Andrew at least to go to bed, but she was unwilling to break up the party.  At last, when it was past one, Mr. Montgomery rose.  Andrew had had more whisky than was good for him, and Miriam went with their guest to the door.  He had a strong head, and could drink a good deal of liquor without confusing it, but liquor altered him nevertheless.  To-night it made him more serious, and yet, strangely enough, strengthened the evil tendency in him to cross his seriousness with instantaneous levity.  He was much given to mocking his own emotions, not only to others, but to himself.  When the door opened, he looked out into the night, and if there had been a lamp there Miriam would have seen that for a moment his face was very sad, but he at once recovered, or seemed to recover.