d. We marry--I wonder how many marriages are the result
of a passion that is burnt out before the altar-rails are reached?--and
three months afterwards the little lass is broken-hearted to find that
we consider the lacing of her boots a bore. Her feet seem to have grown
bigger. There is no excuse for us, save that we are silly children,
never sure of what we are crying for, hurting one another in our play,
crying very loudly when hurt ourselves.

I knew an American lady once who used to bore me with long accounts of
the brutalities exercised upon her by her husband. She had instituted
divorce proceedings against him. The trial came on, and she was highly
successful. We all congratulated her, and then for some months she
dropped out of my life. But there came a day when we again found
ourselves together. One of the problems of social life is to know what
to say to one another when we meet; every man and woman's desire is to
appear sympathetic and clever, and this makes conversation difficult,
because, taking us all round, we are neither sympathetic nor clever--but
this by the way.

Of course, I began to talk to her about her former husband. I asked
her how he was getting on. She replied that she thought he was very
comfortable.

"Married again?" I suggested.

"Yes," she answered.

"Serve him right," I exclaimed, "and his wife too." She was a pretty,
bright-eyed little woman, my American friend, and I wished to ingratiate
myself. "A woman who would marry such a man, knowing what she must have
known of him, is sure to make him wretched, and we may trust him to be a
curse to her."

My friend seemed inclined to defend him.

"I think he is greatly improved," she argued.

"Nonsense!" I returned, "a man never improves. Once a villain, always a
villain."

"Oh, hush!" she pleaded, "you mustn't call him that."

"Why not?" I answered. "I have heard you call him a villain yourself."

"It was wrong of me," she said, flushing. "I'm afraid he was not the
only one to be blamed; we were both foolish in those days, but I think
we have both learned a lesson."

I remained silent, waiting for the necessary explanation.

"You had better come and see him for yourself," she added, with a little
laugh; "to tell the truth, I am the woman who has married him. Tuesday
is my day, Number 2, K---- Mansions," and she ran off, leaving me
staring after her.

I believe an enterprising clergyman who would set up a little church
in the St