Mr. Jones returned to his cottage very pleased with himself and in a healthy glow of excitement. His boredom had all vanished and, already, he was planning more flights of imagination with the unsuspecting Herbert Brent of the great Mile End Road, London, East.
The meeting next day duly took place, followed by further meetings on the next three succeeding days. Indeed, it had now become a regular thing for Mr. Jones to tar over his hands a bit and assume his oldest and most soiled garments every afternoon to proceed to the lonely rendezvous round the corner of the jutting cliffs.
He learnt a lot more about the young fellow's life, and that fifth afternoon, a Saturday, with Bert's holiday now quickly drawing to a close, the latter was inclined to be rather downcast.
“An' the day arter to
