e
lady's attitude compelled the maintenance of platonic relations, and,
whereas in actual life this would merely have meant that he had to
occupy a separate bedroom, in Mr. Jerome's vision of things as they
might be it meant that he had to sleep in the bath-room.

It will be readily understood that, to _The Colonel_, the advent of the
infuriated husband was of the nature of a relief. Thanks to the
intervention of a large assortment of friends, and after assurance given
of the lady's technical retention of her virtue, he agrees to take her
back if she cares to rejoin him. It is true that before the happy
conclusion, so satisfactory to _The Colonel_, is reached, a duel
_manque_ is interposed; but this is designed for the sole benefit of the
audience and does not affect the result.

Meanwhile, the lady adopts an enigmatic behaviour. On the appearance of
her husband she exchanges the black dress of remorse for the gay yellow
garb of a mind at ease; yet under his very nose she permits herself to
exhibit a very intimate delight in _The Colonel's_ more obvious
attractions. So cryptic indeed is her conduct (both for us and her
friends) that it is arranged that her choice between the two men shall
be decided by the test of a dream. In consequence, however, of an attack
of insomnia this dream (like the duel) fails to come off and shortly
after midnight her waking doubts are resolved in her husband's favour.

It will be seen that, the stuff of Mr. Jerome's play is sufficiently
fatuous; but Mr. Edmund Maurice as _The Colonel_ was always amusing, and
in the multitude of counsellors there was merriment. Unfortunately Mr.
Stanley Cooke, as a _Herr Professor_ and leader of the chorus, did not
quite succeed in executing his share of the fun.

[Illustration: How Unhappy could I be with Either!

_The Husband_ Mr. Michael Sherebrooke,
_The Wife_ Miss Sarah Brooke.
_The Colonel_ Mr. Edmund Maurice.]

The farce was varied by a very amateur romance as between a young
American and the niece of an hotel-keeper; also by a slab of melodrama
(dealing with the girl's parentage) which only escaped from pure
banality by the too brief glimpse it gave us of that admirable actress,
Miss Ruth Mackay.

The scene (perhaps the best part of the whole show) was laid in "An
Ancient Grove" adjacent to a German University. (The catalogue,
peculiarly reticent about proper names, offers my memory no
refreshment.) This "Ancient Grove,"