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He threw the end of his cigar into the water, and leaning his elbows upon the bulwarks, staredmeditatively at the waves. How wearisome they are, he said; blue and green, and opal; opal, and blue, and green; all verywell in their way, of course, but three months of them are rather too much, especially- He did not attempt to finish his sentence; his thoughts seemed to wander in the very midst of it, and carry him a thousand miles or so away. Poor little girl, how pleased she'll be! he muttered, opening his cigar-case, lazily surveying itscontents; how pleased and how surprised? Poor little girl. After three years and a half, too; she willbe surprised. He was a young man of about five-and-twenty, with dark face bronzed by exposure to the sun; hehad handsome brown eyes, with a lazy smile in them that sparkled through the black lashes, and abushy beard and mustache that covered the whole lower part of his face. He was tall and powerfullybuilt; he wore a loose gray suit and a felt hat, thrown carelessly upon his black hair. His name wasGeorge Talboys, and he was aft-cabin passenger on board the good ship Argus, laden with Australianwool and sailing from Sydney to Liverpool.There were very few passengers in the aft-cabin of the Argus. An elderly wool-stapler returning tohis native country with his wife and daughters, after having made a fortune in the colonies; agoverness of three-and-thirty years of age, going home to marry a man to whom she had beenengaged fifteen years; the sentimental daughter of a wealthy Australian wine-merchant, invoiced toEngland to finish her education, and George Talboys, were the only first-class passengers on board

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