simple and continuing a pleasure. He could
almost feel the pressure of his wife's hand as it lay in his own, as
they sat in silent sympathy looking into the friendly glow of the
fire.

There was a long, pleasant pause.

"They're giving Sloane a dinner to-night at the 'Travellers'," Stuart
said, at last, "in honor of his going to Abyssinia."

Stuart pondered for some short time as to what sort of a reply Miss
Delamar's understudy ought to make to this innocent remark. He
recalled the fact that on numerous occasions the original had shown
not only a lack of knowledge of far-away places, but, what was more
trying, a lack of interest as well. For the moment he could not see
her robbed of her pretty environment and tramping through undiscovered
countries at his side. So the Picture's reply, when it came, was
strictly in keeping with several remarks which Miss Delamar herself
had made to him in the past.

"Yes," said the Picture, politely, "and where is Abyssinia--in India,
isn't it?"

"No, not exactly," corrected Stuart, mildly; "you pass it on your way
to India, though, as you go through the Red Sea. Sloane is taking
Winchesters with him and a double express and a 'five fifty.' He wants
to test their penetration. I think myself that the express is the
best, but he says Selous and Chanler think very highly of the
Winchester. I don't know, I never shot a rhinoceros. The time I killed
that elephant," he went on, pointing at two tusks that stood with some
assegais in a corner, "I used an express, and I had to let go with
both barrels. I suppose, though, if I'd needed a third shot, I'd have
wished it was a Winchester. He was charging the smoke, you see, and I
couldn't get away because I'd caught my foot--but I told you about
that, didn't I?" Stuart interrupted himself to ask politely.

"Yes," said the Picture, cheerfully, "I remember it very well; it was
very foolish of you."

Stuart straightened himself with a slightly injured air and avoided
the Picture's eye. He had been stopped midway in what was one of his
favorite stories, and it took a brief space of time for him to recover
himself, and to sink back again into the pleasant lethargy in which he
had been basking.

"Still," he said, "I think the express is the better gun."

"Oh, is an 'express' a gun?" exclaimed the Picture, with sudden
interest. "Of course, I might have known."

Stuart turned in his chair, and surveyed the Picture in some surprise.
"But, my d