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pier, unlike many remote Irish piers, is occasionally useful as well as romantic. On his left, behind him, a flight of stone steps descends out of sight to the sea level.

A woman in a silk tunic and sandals, wearing little else except a cap with the number two on it in gold, comes up the steps from the sea, and stares in astonishment at the sobbing man. Her age cannot be guessed: her face is firm and chiselled like a young face; but her expression is unyouthful in its severity and determination.

The Woman	What is the matter?
	The elderly gentleman looks up; hastily pulls himself together; takes out a silk handkerchief and dries his tears lightly with a brave attempt to smile through them; and tries to rise gallantly, but sinks back.
The Woman	Do you need assistance?
The Elderly Gentleman	No. Thank you very much. No. Nothing. The heat. He punctuates with sniffs, and dabs with his handkerchief at his eyes and nose. Hay fever.
The Woman	You are a foreigner, are you not?
The Elderly Gentleman	No. You must not regard me as a foreigner. I am a Briton.
The Woman	You come from some part of the British Commonwealth?
The Elderly Gentleman	Amiably pompous. From its capital, madam.
The Woman	From Baghdad?
The Elderly Gentleman	Yes. You may not be aware, madam, that these islands were once the centre of the British Commonwealth, during a period now known as The Exile. They were its headquarters a thousand years ago. Few people know this interesting circumstance now; but I assure you it is true. I have come here on a pious pilgrimage to one of the numerous lands of my fathers. We are of the same stock, you and I. Blood is thicker than water. We are cousins.
The Woman	I do not understand. You say you have come here on a pious pilgrimage. Is that some new means of transport?
The Elderly Gentleman	Again showing signs of distress. I find it very difficult to make myself understood here. I was not referring to a machine, but to a⁠—a⁠—a sentimental journey.
The Woman	I am afraid I am as much in the dark as before. You said also that blood is thicker than water. No doubt it is; but what of it?
The Elderly Gentleman	Its meaning is obvious.
The Woman	Perfectly. But I assure you I am quite aware that blood is thicker than water.
The Elderly Gentleman	Sniffing: almost in tears again. We will leave it at that, madam.
The Woman	Going nearer to him and scrutinizing him with some concern. I am afraid you are not well. Were you not warned that it is dangerous for short-lived people to come to this country? There is a deadly disease called discouragement, against which short-lived people have to take very strict precautions. Intercourse with us puts too great a strain on them.
The Elderly Gentleman	Pulling himself together huffily. It has no effect on me, madam. I fear my conversation does not interest you. If not, the remedy is in your own hands.
The Woman	Looking at her hands, and then looking inquiringly at him. Where?
The Elderly Gentleman	Breaking down. Oh, this is dreadful. No understanding, no intelligence, no sympathy⁠—His sobs choke him.
The Woman	You see, you are ill.
The Elderly Gentleman	Nerved by indignation. I am not ill. I have never had a day’s illness in my life.
The Woman	May I advise you?
The Elderly Gentleman	I have no need of a lady doctor, thank you, madam.
The Woman	Shaking her head. I am afraid I do not understand. I said nothing about a butterfly.
The Elderly Gentleman	Well, I said nothing about a butterfly.
The Woman	You spoke of a lady doctor. The word is known here only as the name of a butterfly.
The Elderly Gentleman	Insanely. I give up. I can bear this no longer. It is easier to go out of my mind at once. He rises and dances about, singing: I’d be a butterfly, born in a bower, Making apple dumplings without any flour.
The Woman	Smiling gravely. It must be at least a hundred and fifty years since I last laughed. But if you do that any more I shall certainly break out like a primary of sixty. Your dress is so extraordinarily ridiculous.
The Elderly Gentleman	Halting abruptly in his antics. My dress ridiculous! I may not be dressed like a Foreign Office clerk; but my clothes are perfectly in fashion in my native metropolis, where yours⁠—pardon my saying so⁠—would be considered extremely unusual and hardly decent.
The Woman	Decent? There is no such word in our language. What does it mean?
The Elderly Gentleman	It would not be decent for me to explain. Decency cannot be discussed without indecency.
The Woman	I cannot understand you at all. I fear you have not been observing the rules laid down for short-lived visitors.
The Elderly Gentleman	Surely, madam, they do not apply to persons of my age and standing. I am not a child, nor an agricultural laborer.
The Woman	Severely. They apply to you very strictly. You are expected to confine yourself to the society of children under sixty. You are absolutely forbidden to approach fully adult natives under any circumstances. You cannot converse with persons of my age for long without bringing on a dangerous attack of discouragement. Do you realize that you are already showing grave symptoms of that very distressing and usually fatal complaint?
The Elderly Gentleman	Certainly not, madam. I am fortunately in no danger of contracting it. I am quite accustomed to converse intimately and at the greatest length with the most distinguished persons. If you cannot discriminate between hay fever and imbecility, I can only say that your advanced years carry with them the inevitable penalty of dotage.
The Woman	I am one of the guardians of this district; and I am responsible for your welfare⁠—
The Elderly Gentleman	The Guardians! Do you take me for a pauper?
The Woman	I do not know what a pauper is. You must