nd-six to a "bob" that you wouldn't use
that word.'

'It is really your fault that I did,' he said seriously.

She curtsied daintily. 'I make money on Englishmen and lose it on
Americans,' she said. 'I have a regular scale of bets. I give ten to
one that an Englishman will say in the first ten minutes that I look
"topping," five to one on "absolutely ripping" in the first thirty, and
even money on "stunning" in the first hour.'

His face, which had been portraying an amusing mixture of perplexity
and admiration, broke into a smile which encompassed all his features.
'Do all bets cease at the end of the first hour?' he asked.

'Yes, ra-_ther_. An Englishman never pays compliments then, because he
is used to you. Isn't it awful seeing people getting used to you?'

'Do they ever?'

'Umph'm. The only chance of bagging one of the nobility as a husband
is to limit interviews to half-an-hour and never wear the same clothes
twice. Startle him! Keep him startled! Save your most daring gown
for the night you're going to make him propose, then wear white until
the wedding. An Englishman will fall in love with a woman in scarlet,
but he likes to think he's marrying one who wears white. Costume, my
dear Americano--costume does it. Hence the close alliance between the
nobility and the chorus. But come along; we're snubbing the sunlight.'

With something like intoxication in his blood, he followed his
imperious, high-spirited companion from the house. He hurried forward
to help her to mount, but she had her foot in the stirrup and had swung
herself into the saddle before he could reach her side. With less
ease, but with creditable horse-management, Selwyn mounted the chestnut
and drew alongside the bay, who was cavorting airily, as if to taunt
the larger horse with the superior charm of the creature that bestrode
him.

'We'll be back, Smith, at twelve-thirty,' she called; and with the
tossing of the horses' heads, resentful of the restraining reins, and
the clattering of hoofs that struck sparks from the roadway, they made
for the Park.

IV.

London is a stage that is always set. The youthful Dickens watching
the murky Thames found the setting for his moments of horror, just as
surely as cheery coach-houses, many of them but little changed to this
day, bespoke the entrance of Wellers senior and junior. London gave to
Wilde's exotic genius the scenes wherein his brilliantly futile
characters played their