future of an unfledged brat like that can possibly concern you!"

"Perhaps not," Aynesworth answered, "but you must remember that you are
a little out of touch with your fellows just now. I daresay when you
were my age, you would have felt as I feel. I daresay that as the years
go on, you will feel like it again."

Wingrave was thoughtful for a moment.

"So you think," he remarked, "that I may yet have in me the making of a
sentimentalist."

Aynesworth returned his gaze as steadfastly.

"One can never tell," he answered. "You may change, of course. I hope
that you will."

"You are candid, at any rate!"

"I do not think," Aynesworth answered, "that there is any happiness in
life for the man who lives entirely apart from his fellow creatures.
Not to feel is not to live. I think that the first real act of kindness
which you feel prompted to perform will mark the opening of a different
life for you."

Wingrave spread out the newspaper.

"I think," he said, with a faint sneer, "that it is quite time you took
this sea voyage."

THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES

Mr. Lumley Barrington, K.C. and M.P., was in the act of stepping into
his carriage to drive down to the House, when he was intercepted by a
message. It was his wife's maid, who came hurrying out after him.

"I beg your pardon, sir," she said, "but her ladyship particularly
wished to see you as soon as you came in."

"Is your mistress in?" Barrington asked in some surprise.

"Yes, sir!" the maid answered. "Her ladyship is resting, before she goes
to the ball at Caleram House. She is in her room now."

"I will come up at once," Barrington said.

He kept the carriage waiting while he ascended to his wife's room. There
was no answer to his knock. He opened the door softly. She was asleep on
a couch drawn up before the fire.

He crossed the room noiselessly, and stood looking down upon her.
Her lithe, soft figure had fallen into a posture of graceful, almost
voluptuous ease; the ribbons and laces of her muslin dressing gown
quivered gently with her deep regular breathing. She had thrown off her
slippers, and one long, slender foot was exposed; the other was doubled
up underneath her body. Her face was almost like the face of a child,
smooth and unwrinkled, save for one line by the eyes where she laughed.
He looked at her steadfastly. Could the closing of the eyes, indeed,
make all the difference? Life and the knowledge of life seemed things
far from her co