Not
seeing any signs of him in the direction of the bridge, I turned
back. A little way past the chair where the lady was sitting I met
Mr. Parable. I know Mr. Parable quite well by sight. He was
wearing the usual grey suit and soft felt hat with which the
pictures in the newspapers have made us all familiar. I judged that
Mr. Parable had come from the Houses of Parliament, and the next
morning my suspicions were confirmed by reading that he had been
present at a tea-party given on the terrace by Mr. Will Crooks. Mr.
Parable conveyed to me the suggestion of a man absorbed in thought,
and not quite aware of what he was doing; but in this, of course, I
may have been mistaken. He paused for a moment to look over the
railings at the pelican. Mr. Parable said something to the pelican
which I was not near enough to overhear; and then, still apparently
in a state of abstraction, crossed the path and seated himself on
the chair next to that occupied by the young lady.
From the tree against which I was standing I was able to watch the
subsequent proceedings unobserved. The lady looked at Mr. Parable
and then turned away and smiled to herself. It was a peculiar
smile, and, again in some way I am unable to explain, reminded me of
my first wife. It was not till the pelican put down his other leg
and walked away that Mr.
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