e other,
whose words were slightly tinged with a foreign accent.

A merry laugh burst from Julia at this speech, which the others joined
in by very impulse.

"I suspect," said the first speaker, "we might as well have occupied the
same room, seeing in what close proximity we stand to each other."

"I think it would be as well to go to your room, Julia," said George, in
a low voice. "It is getting late, besides."

"I believe you are right, George. I will say good-night."

The last words appeared to have caught the ears of the strangers, who
exclaimed together, "Good-night, goodnight;" and he with the foreign
accent began to hum, in a very sweet tenor voice, "Buona sera, buona
notte, buona sera;" which Julia would fain have listened to, but George
hurried her away, and closed the door.

"There is the end of that episode," said the foreign voice. "Le mari
jaloux has had enough of us. Your women in England are taught never to
play with fire."

"I might reply that yours are all pyrotechnists," said the other, with a
laugh.

The clatter of plates and the jingle of glasses, as the waiter laid
the table for supper, drowned their voices, and L'Estrange dropped off
asleep soon after. A hearty burst of laughter at last aroused him. It
came from the adjoining room, where the strangers were still at table,
though it was now nigh daybreak.

"Yes," said he of the foreign accent, "I must confess it. I never
made a lucky hit in my life without the ungrateful thought of how much
luckier it might have been."

"It is your Italian blood has given you that temperament."

"I knew you 'd say so, Philip; before my speech was well out, I felt
the reply you 'd make me. But let me tell you that you English are not
a whit more thankful to fortune than we are; but in your matter-of-fact
way you accept a benefit as your just due, while we, more conscious of
our deservings, always feel that no recompense fully equalled what we
merited. And so it is that ever since that morning at Furnival's Inn, I
keep on asking myself, Why twenty thousand? Why not forty--why not twice
forty?"

"I was quite prepared for all this. I think I saw the reaction beginning
as you signed the paper."

"No, there you wrong me, Philip. I wrote boldly, like a man who felt
that he was making a great resolve, and could stand by it. You 'll never
guess when what you have called 'the reaction' set in."

"I am curious to know when that was."

"I 'll tell you. You r