eet of London
clay. Will no one take any more wine? No. Then we may as well go into
the next room and begin our little Nap.'

The adjoining room was Sir George's snuggery; and it was here that the
cosy little round games after supper were always played. Sir George was
not a studious person. He never read, and he never wrote, except an
occasional cheque on account, for an importunate tradesman. His
correspondence was conducted by the telegraph or telephone; and the
room, therefore, was absorbed neither by books nor writing desks. It was
furnished solely with a view to comfort. There was a round table in the
centre, under a large moderator lamp which gave an exceptionally
brilliant light. A divan covered with dark brown velvet occupied three
sides of the room. A few choice pieces of old blue Oriental ware in the
corners enlivened the dark brown walls. Three or four easy chairs stood
about near the broad, old-fashioned fireplace, which had been improved
with a modern-antique brass grate and a blue and white tiled hearth.

'There isn't a room in my house that looks half as comfortable as this
den of yours, George,' said Mr. Smithson, as he seated himself by
Lesbia's side at the card table.

They had agreed to be partners. 'Partners at cards, even if we are not
to be partners for life,' Smithson had whispered, tenderly; and Lesbia's
only reply had been a modest lowering of lovely eyelids, and a faint,
faint blush. Lesbia's blushes were growing fainter every day.

'That is because everything in your house is so confoundedly handsome
and expensive,' retorted Sir George, who did not very much care about
being called George, _tout court_, by a person of Mr. Smithson's obscure
antecedents, but who had to endure the familiarity for reasons known
only to himself and Mr. Smithson. 'No man can expect to be comfortable
in a house in which every room has cost a small fortune. My wife
re-arranged this den half-a-dozen years ago when we took to sittin' here
of an evenin'. She picked up the chairs and the blue pots at Bonham's,
had everythin' covered with brown velvet--nice subdued tone, suit old
people--hung up that yaller curtain, just for a bit of colour, and here
we are.'

'It's the cosiest room in town,' said Colonel Delville, whereupon Mrs.
Mostyn, while counters were being distributed, explained to the company
on scientific principles _why_ the room was comfortable, expatiating
upon the effect of yellow and brown upon the reti