it meant nothing to him. He had been lolling upon the deck

of the brigantine glaring at the yacht Lotus, hating her and

the gay, well-dressed men and women he could see laughing

and chatting upon her deck. They represented to him the

concentrated essence of all that was pusillanimous, disgusting,

loathsome in that other world that was as far separated from

him as though he had been a grubworm in the manure pile

back of Brady's livery stable.

He saw the note handed by the sailor to a gray-haired,

smooth-faced man--a large, sleek, well-groomed man. Billy

could imagine the white hands and polished nails of him. The

thought was nauseating.

The man who took and opened the note was Anthony

Harding, Esq. He read it, and then passed it to a young

woman who stood near-by talking with other young people.

"Here, Barbara," he said, "is something of more interest to

you than to me. If you wish I'll call upon him and invite him

to dinner tonight."

The girl was reading the note.

Anthony Harding, Esq.

On Board Yacht Lotus,

Honolulu

My dear Mr. Harding:

This will introduce a very dear friend of mine, Count de

Cadenet, who expects to be in Honolulu about the time that

you are there. The count is traveling for pleasure, and as he is

entirely unacquainted upon the islands any courtesies which

you may show him will he greatly appreciated.

Cordially,

L. CORTWRITE DIVINE.

The girl smiled as she finished perusing the note.

"Larry is always picking up titles and making dear friends

of them," she laughed. "I wonder where he found this one."

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