A sudden and violent stress upon my left hand at once reminded me of Nobby’s existence, and suggested that of a cat.  Mechanically I held fast to the lead, at the opposite end of which the Sealyham was choking and labouring in a frenzied endeavour to molest a sleek tabby, which, from the assurance of its gait, appeared to be a persona grata upon the quay.  The attempted felony attracted considerable attention, which should have been otherwise directed, with the result that a clergyman and two ladies were within an ace of being overrun by an enormous truckload of swaying baggage and coarsely reviled by a sweating Hercules for their pains.  As it was, the sudden diversion of the trolley projected several pieces of luggage on to the quay, occasioning an embryo stampede of the bystanders and drawing down a stern rebuke, delivered in no measured terms, from a blue-coated official, who had not seen what had happened, upon the heads of innocent and guilty alike.  The real offender met my accusing frown with the disarming smile of childish innocence, and, when I shook my head, wagged his tail unctuously.  As I picked him up and put him under my arm—­

“So this is Nobby,” said Adele.

I uncovered and nodded.

“And he had a bath this morning, so as to be all nice and clean when Miss Feste arrived.  I did, too.”

“How reckless!” said Adele.  “You look very well on it.”

“Thank you,” said I, shaking hands.  “And you look glorious.  Hullo!  You’ve let your hair grow.  I am glad.”

“Think it’s an improvement?”

“If possible.”

The well-marked eyebrows went up, the bright brown eyes regarded me quizzically, the faint familiar smile hung maddeningly on the red lips.

“Polite as ever,” she flashed.

“Put it down to the bath,” said I.  “Cleanliness is next to—­er—­devotion.”

“Yes, and he’s been counting the days,” broke in Jill.  “He has really.  Of course, we all have.  But——­Oh, Adele, I’m so glad you’ve come.”

Adele drew my cousin’s arm within her own.

“So’m I,” she said quietly.  “And now—­I did have a dressing-case once.  And a steamer-trunk....  D’you think it’s any good looking for them?”

Twenty minutes later we were all three—­four with Nobby—­on the front seat of the Rolls, which was nosing its way gingerly out of the town.

“I wonder if you realize,” said Adele, “what a beautiful country you live in.”

At the moment we were immediately between an unpleasantly crowded tram and a fourth-rate beerhouse.

“Don’t you have trams?” said I.  “Or does alcohol mean so much to you?  I suppose prohibition is a bit of a jar.”

“To tell you the truth, I was thinking of the Isle of Wight.  It looked so exquisite as we were coming in.  Just like a toy continent out of a giant’s nursery.”

“Before the day is out,” I prophesied, “you shall see finer things than that.”