This was one of the qualities of Mr.Augustus Frothingham, who had assumed an air of polite interest and an accurately cynical smile, and the manner of generously lending his professional attention to any of the vagaries of the client.

Mrs.
Hastings stirred uneasily.
"I'm sure," she said fretfully, "that I must be very stupid, but I simply can _not_ follow you.

Why, you talk about things that don't exist! My husband, who was a very practical and advanced man, would have shown you at once that what you say is impossible." Here was the attitude of the Commonplace the world over, thought St.
George: to believe in wireless telegraphy simply because it has been found out, and to disbelieve in the Fourth Dimension because it has not been.
"I can not explain these things," admitted the prince gravely, "and I dare say that you could prove that they do not exist, just as a man from another planet could show us to his own satisfaction that there are no such things as music or colour." "Go on, please," said Olivia eagerly.
"Olivia, I'm sure," protested Mrs.Hastings, "I think it's very unwomanly of you to show such an interest in these things." "Will you bear with me for one moment, Mrs.Hastings ?" begged the prince, "and perhaps I shall be able to interest you.

The submarine returned, bringing the sole survivor of the wreck of the African transport." "Ah, now," Mrs.Hastings assured him blandly, "you are dealing with things that can happen.

My brother Otho, my niece's father, was just this last year the sole survivor of the wreck of a very important vessel." "I have the honour, Mrs.Hastings, to be narrating to you the circumstances attending the discovery of your brother and Miss Holland's father, after the wreck of that vessel." "My father ?" cried Olivia.
The prince bowed.
"After this manner, Chance had rewarded us.