Mr. Arthur Mackwayte slipped noiselessly into the dining-room and took hisplace at the table. He always moved quietly, a look of gentle deprecation onhis face as much as to say: “Really, you know, I can’t help beinghere: if you will just overlook me this time, by and by you won’t noticeI’m there at all!” That was how he went through life, a shy,retiring little man, quiet as a mouse, gentle as a dove, modesty personified.
That is, at least, how Mr. Arthur Mackwayte struck his friends in private life.Once a week, how