at which to
spend the evening, and avoid sweet champagne with the same care. You
and I may know that to-night England has thrown overboard a national
policy. Yet I doubt whether either of us will sleep the less soundly."

"Not only that," he said, "but the Government have to-day shown
themselves possessed of a penetration and appreciation of mind for which
I for one scarcely gave them credit. They have made me a peer."

She looked at him with an amused smile.

"They make judges and peers for two reasons" she remarked.

"That, Lady Caroom, is unkind," he said. "I can assure you that
throughout my career I have never made a nuisance of myself to any one.
In the House I have been a model member, and I have always obeyed my
whip in fear and trembling. At the Bar I have been mildness itself.
The /St. James's Gazette/ speaks of my urbanity, and the courtesy with
which I have always conducted the most arduous cross-examination. You
should read the /St. James's Gazette/, Lady Caroom. I do not know the
biographical editor, but it is easy to predict a future for him. He has
common-sense and insight. The paragraph about myself touched me. I
have cut it out, and I mean to keep it always with me."

"The Press," she said, "have all those things cut and dried. No doubt
if you made friends with that young man he would let you read your
obituary notice. I have a friend who has corrected the proofs of his
already."

Hennibul smiled.

"My cousin Avenal, the police magistrate," he said, "actually read his
in the Times. He was bathing at Jersey and was carried away by
currents, and picked up by a Sark fishing-smack. They took him to Sark,
and he was so charmed with his surroundings and the hospitality of the
people that he quite forgot to let anybody know where he was. When he
read his obituary notice he almost decided to remain dead. He declared
that it was quite impossible to live up to it."

"Our charity now-a-days," she remarked, "always begins with the dead."

"Let me try and awaken yours towards the living!" he said.

She laughed.

"Are you smitten with the Brooks' fever?" she asked.

"Mine is a fever," he answered, "but it has nothing to do with Brooks.
I would try to awaken your charity on behalf of a perfectly worthy
object, myself--/vide/ the /St. James's Gazette/."

"And what do you need from me more than you have?" she asked. "Haven't
you the sole possession of my society, the right to bore me or make me
happy, p