masters, and to write only what I know. I think that is rather a
mistake. If one possesses the literary instinct, it must surely be
possible to project one's self, as it were, into the place of another,
and so create an environment. How can one be expected to experience
personally the whole gamut of human emotions?"

"Cast your ruminating eye upon me, my love," said Madge suavely,
pointing with a thin forefinger to herself. Behind Theo's back she had
been occupied in rolling her eyes and waving her hands in dramatic
illustration of the other's high-flown phrases, so that Hope had rushed
to the window to stare at the chimney-pots, while Philippa had dropped
her needle on the floor and grovelled on all-fours in order to redeem
it. The two returned to their seats with expressions of preternatural
gravity, while Madge continued to declaim her offers of help.

"Study my character! It is full of rich and unexpected qualities. When
you get to an _impasse_, ask my advice, and I'll tell you how I should
behave in the circumstances. Though young in years I am old in wisdom,
and you would go far before you discovered a better preceptor."

Theo laughed with good-natured disdain. "Old in experience, indeed!
Poor little country mouse, what do you know of life? You have never
even been in love."

"Oh, haven't I, though! Shows how little you know," cried Madge darkly.
"I have never been out of it since I was eight years old. The first
one was Tommy Egerton. Do you remember those Egertons who took The
Chase for a year? Tommy was the little boy who wore a fawn coat with a
sealskin collar, and dear little brown gaiters. I doted on him! And
one day his mother brought him to call, and I had on a soiled pinafore.
Oh, my feelings! I consider that my character has been warped for life
by the humiliation I endured that afternoon. Then there was that
freckled boy who used to send me valentines:--

"The rose is red, the violet blue,
And sugar's sweet, and so are you.

"Dear, dear, how bashful I felt the first time I met him after that
special valentine arrived! Then there was the curate who spoke through
his `dose.' That was the love that was born of pity! Every one abused
him, so there arose in my heart that almost maternal tenderness and
compassion which is inseparable from the love of every good woman.
Ahem!" Madge glanced up with dancing eyes, then grew grave again and
added slowly, "And now there's that stud