ftly, all hymns should be.
There was archaic simplicity, not to say baldness, about it which sent
Mrs. Windsor into exotic raptures, and, as it was exceedingly short, it
made its definite mark.

There was a moon in the night, full, round, and serene, and the French
windows stood open to the quiet garden. The drawing-room was very dimly
lighted, and as Reggie played, he was in shadow. His white, sensitive
face was only faintly to be seen. It looked pure and young, Lady Locke
thought, as she watched him. He was so enamoured of his hymn that he
played it over and over again, and, from his touch, it seemed as if he
were trying to make the Steinway grand sound as much like a spinet as
possible.

Madame Valtesi sat on a sofa with her long, slim feet supported upon an
embroidered cushion. She was smoking a cigarette with all the complete
mastery of custom. Mrs. Windsor stood near the window, idly following
with her eyes the perambulations of Bung, who was flitting about the
garden like a ghost with a curled tail and a turned-up nose. Mr.
Amarinth leaned largely upon the piano, in an attitude of rapt
attention. His clever, clean-shaved face wore an expression of seraphic
sensuality.

Lady Locke listened quietly. She had never heard any hymn so often
before, and yet she did not feel bored.

At last Lord Reggie stopped, and said, "Esme, the curate comes to dine
to-morrow. Remember to be very sweet to him. I want to play the organ on
Sunday morning, and he must let us do an anthem. I will compose one. We
can get up a choir practice on Friday night, if Mrs. Windsor does not
mind."

"Oh, charming!" Mrs. Windsor cried from the window. "I love a choir
practice above all things. Choir boys are so pretty. They must come to
the practice in their nightgowns, of course. I am sure Mr. Smith will be
delighted. But you must remember to be very high church to-morrow night.
Mr. Smith is terribly particular about that."

"I don't think I know how to be High Church," said Madame Valtesi very
gravely. "Does one assume any special posture of body, or are one's
convictions to be shown only in attitude of mind?"

"Oh, there is no difficulty," said Lord Reggie. "All one has to do is to
abuse the Evangelical party. Speak disrespectfully of the Bishop of
Liverpool, and say that Father Staunton and the Bishop of Lincoln are
the only preachers of true doctrine in England. The Ritualists are very
easily pleased. They put their faith in preachers a