how he was able to express frequently in a single word the idea of an
entire sentence. I listened with eager and increasing interest. Every
now and then Mr. Barr interrupted the conversation with a torrent of
words, sometimes by way of soliloquizing comment on the views expressed,
and occasionally addressed to me. In the latter case I always put my
fingers on my lips and smiled, a course which had the effect of
silencing him for the time being. Meanwhile everybody ate with appetite
of the good things provided; and the artist-poet, as though to show his
contempt for the doctrines of moderation, helped himself again and again
from a crystal pitcher of claret-cup that was at his elbow.

Of a sudden, to my great consternation, Mr. Spence looked directly at me
and said,--

"Paris?"

All my ideas seemed to desert me on the spot. But by a rapid inspiration
I shook my head and said,--

"Never."

"There. During Commune," continued my interrogator, and I saw from Miss
Kingsley's radiant and encouraging smile and nod that I had been right
in my assumption that he wished to know if I had ever been there.

"Really!" I said, emboldened.

"Grisly," said he.

"Cat!" almost hissed Mr. Fleisch in his excitement.

"Dog!" said Mrs. Marsh.

"Horse!" exclaimed Miss Kingsley.

Fortunately I recalled what Miss Kingsley had told me regarding Mr.
Spence's early experiences in search of extremes, so that I was not as
nonplussed as might perhaps have been expected by these ejaculations.

"Gruesome!" I said, with a determination to acquit myself creditably.

"Unsympathetic!" added Miss Kingsley, rather unnecessarily as I
thought.

"Not so bad. Lived on them for days," said Mr. Spence, still addressing
me. "Time of my novitiate."

"Where self undulates freely there is no novitiate, for all is
allowable," exclaimed Paul Barr fiercely; and he filled another goblet.
I almost felt afraid of his gaze, it had become so intense and ardent. I
tried not to look in his direction, though there was an originality and
fascination about him that made it next to impossible not to steal an
occasional glance across the table.

Mr. Spence held up his hand deprecatingly in answer to his friend's
tirade, while little Fleisch like a trusty retainer exclaimed once more
with fierceness,--

"Boomerang!"

Mr. Spence again turned to me, "Worse; night in tomb!"

"Beside corpse!" explained Mr. Fleisch.

The ladies shivered.

"Trifle," murmured Mr.