cy ball; he
pounced upon it. A portrait of Lady Parham--Ye powers! he chuckled as he
read. On the next page the Chancellor of the Exchequer--snub-nosed
<i>parvenu</i> and Puritan--admirably caught. Further on a speech of Ashe's
in the House--with caricature to right and caricature to left ... Ah! the
poet!--at last! He bent over the page till Kitty coughed and fidgeted,
and he thought it best to hurry on. But it was war, he perceived--open,
undignified, feminine war. On the next page, the Archbishop of
Canterbury--with Lady Kitty's views on the Athanasian Creed! Heavens!
what a book! Next, Royalty itself, not too respectfully handled. Then
Ashe again--Ashe glorified, Ashe explained, Ashe intrigued against, and
Ashe triumphant--everywhere the centre of the stage, and everywhere, of
course, all unknown to the author, the fool of the piece. Political
indiscretions also, of the most startling kind, as coming from the wife
of a cabinet minister. Allusions, besides, scattered broadcast, to the
scandals of the day--material as far as he could see for a dozen libel
actions. And with it all, much fantastic ability, flashes of wit and
romance, enough to give the book wings beyond its first personal
audience--enough, in fact, to secure to all its scandalous matter the
widest possible chance of fame.

"Well!"

He rolled over on his elbows, and lay staring at the sheets before
him--dumb. What was he to say?

A thought struck him. As far as he could perceive, there was an empty
niche.

"And Lord Parham?"

A smile of mischief broadened on Kitty's lips.

"That'll come," she said--and checked herself. Darrell bowed his face on
his hands and laughed, unseen. To what sacrificial rite was the
unconscious victim hurrying--at that very moment--in the express train
which was to land him at Haggart Station that afternoon?

"Well!" said Kitty, impatiently--"what do you think? Can you help me?"

Darrell looked up.

"You know, Lady Kitty, that book can't be published like that. Nobody
would risk it."

"Well, I suppose they'll tell me what to cut out."

"Yes," said Darrell, slowly, caught by many reflections--"no doubt some
clever fellow will know how near the wind it's possible to sail. But,
anyway, trim it as you like, the book will make a scandal."

"Will it?" Kitty's eyes flashed. She sat up radiant, her breath quick
and defiant.

"I don't see," he resumed, "how you can publish it without consulting
Ashe."

Kitty gave a cry