CHAPTER X.SKEPSEY IN MOTION.
The bearer of his master's midday letters from London shot beyond Nataly as soon as seen, with an apparent snap of his body in passing.

He steamed to the end of the terrace and delivered the packet, returning at the same rate of speed, to do proper homage to the lady he so much respected.

He had left the railway-station on foot instead of taking a fly, because of a calculation that he would save three minutes; which he had not lost for having to come through the raincloud.

'Perhaps the contrary,' Skepsey said: it might be judged to have accelerated his course: and his hat dripped, and his coat shone, and he soaped his hands, cheerful as an ouzel-cock when the sun is out again.
'Many cracked crowns lately, in the Manly Art ?' Colney inquired of him.
And Skepsey answered with precision of statement: 'Crowns, no, sir; the nose, it may happen; but it cannot be said to be the rule.' 'You are of opinion, that the practice of Scientific Pugilism offers us compensation for the broken bridge of a nose ?' 'In an increase of manly self-esteem: I do, sir, yes.' Skepsey was shy of this gentleman's bite; and he fancied his defence had been correct.

Perceiving a crumple of the lips of Mr.Durance, he took the attitude of a watchful dubiety.
'But, my goodness, you are wet through!' cried Nataly, reproaching herself for the tardy compassion; and Nesta ran up to them and heaped a thousand pities on her 'poor dear Skip,' and drove him in beneath the glass-dome to the fragments of pic-nic, and poured champagne for him, 'lest his wife should have to doctor him for a cold,' and poured afresh, when he had obeyed her: 'for the toasting of Lakelands, dear Skepsey!' impossible to resist: so he drank, and blinked; and was then told, that before using his knife and fork he must betake himself to some fire of shavings and chips, where coffee was being made, for the purpose of drying his clothes.