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He
was for ever making eyes at me -- a coarse, puffy-faced, red-
moustached young man, with his hair plastered down on each
side of his forehead. I thought that he was perfectly hateful -- and
I was sure that Cyril would not wish me to know such a
person."
"Oh, Cyril is his name!" said Holmes, smiling.
The young lady blushed and laughed.
"Yes, Mr. Holmes, Cyril Morton, an electrical engineer, and
we hope to be married at the end of the summer. Dear me, how
did I get talking about him? What I wished to say was that Mr.
Woodley was perfectly odious, but that Mr. Carruthers, who was
a much older man, was more agreeable. He was a dark, sallow,
clean-shaven, silent person, but he had polite manners and a
pleasant smile. He inquired how we were left, and on finding
that we were very poor, he suggested that I should come and
teach music to his only daughter, aged ten. I said that I did not
like to leave my mother, on which he suggested that I should go
home to her every week-end, and he offered me a hundred a
year, which was certainly splendid pay.


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