Some people do not believe in presentiments. They attribute thatcurious feeling that something unpleasant is going to happen to suchmundane causes as liver, or a chill, or the weather. For my own part,I think there is more in the matter than the casual observer mightimagine.

　　I awoke three days after my meeting with the professor at the club-house, filled with a dull foreboding. Somehow I seemed to know thatthat day was going to turn out badly for me. It may have been liver ora chill, but it was certainly not the weather. The morning wasperfect,--the most glorious of a glorious summer. There was a hazeover the valley and out to sea which suggested a warm noon, when thesun should have begun the serious duties of the day. The birds weresinging in the trees and breakfasting on the lawn, while Edwin, seatedon one of the flower-beds, watched them with the eye of a connoisseur.

　　Occasionally, when a sparrow hopped in his direction, he would make asudden spring, and the bird would fly away to the other side of thelawn. I had never seen Edwin catch a sparrow. I believe they looked onhim as a bit of a crank, and humoured him by coming within springingdistance, just to keep him amused. Dashing young cock-sparrows wouldshow off before their particular hen-sparrows, and earn a cheapreputation for dare-devilry by going within so many years of Edwin'slair, and then darting away. Bob was in his favourite place on thegravel. I took him with me down to the Cob to watch me bathe.

　　"What's the matter with me to-day, Robert, old son?" I asked him, as Idried myself.

　　He blinked lazily, but contributed no suggestion.

　　"It's no good looking bored," I went on, "because I'm going to talkabout myself, however much it bores you. Here am I, as fit as a prize-fighter, living in the open air for I don't know how long, eating goodplain food--bathing every morning--sea-bathing, mind you--and yetwhat's the result? I feel beastly."Bob yawned, and gave a little whine.

　　"Yes," I said, "I know I'm in love. But that can't be it, because Iwas in love just as much a week ago, and I felt all right then. Butisn't she an angel, Bob? Eh? Isn't she? And didn't you feel buckedwhen she patted you? Of course you did. Anybody would. But how aboutTom Chase? Don't you think he's a dangerous man? He calls her by herChristian name, you know, and behaves generally as if she belonged tohim. And then he sees her every day, while I have to trust to meetingher at odd times, and then I generally feel such a fool I can't thinkof anything to talk about except golf and the weather. He probablysings duets with her after dinner, and you know what comes of duetsafter dinner."Here Bob, who had been trying for some time to find a decent excusefor getting away, pretended to see something of importance at theother end of the Cob, and trotted off to investigate it, leaving me tofinish dressing by myself.