e a eumoirous tone to the
system?

Of course, Dale came round to my chambers in the evening and talked
about Lola and himself and me until I sent him home to bed. He kept on
repeating at intervals that I was glorious. I grew tired at last of the
eulogy, and, adopting his vernacular, declared that I should be jolly
glad to get out of this rubbishy world. He protested. There was never
such a world. It was gorgeous. What was wrong with it, anyway? As I
could not show him the Commination Service, I picked imaginary flaws in
the universe. I complained of its amateurishness of design. But Dale,
who loves fact, was not drawn into a theological disputation.

"Do you know, I had a deuce of a shock when I came into Lola's this
afternoon?" he cried irrelevantly, with a loud laugh. "I thought--it was
a damnable and idiotic thing to come into my head--but I couldn't help
thinking you had cut me out! I wanted to tell you. You must forgive me
for being such an ass. And I want to thank you for being so good to her
while I was away. She has been telling me. You like her, don't you? I
knew you would. No one can help it. Besides being other things, she's is
such a good sort, isn't she?"

I admitted her many excellencies, while he walked about the room.

"By Jove!" he cried, coming to a halt. "I've got a grand idea. My little
plan has succeeded so well with you that I've a good mind to try it on
my mother."

"What on earth do you mean?" I asked.

"Why shouldn't I take the bull by the horns and bring my mother and Lola
together?"

I gasped. "My dear boy," said I. "Do you want to kill me outright? I
can't stand such shocks to the imagination."

"But it would be grand!" he exclaimed, delighted. "Why shouldn't
mother take a fancy to Lola? You can imagine her roping her in for the
committee!"

I refused to imagine it for one instant, and I had the greatest
difficulty in the world to persuade him to renounce his maniacal
project. I am going to permit no further complications.

I have been busy for the past day or two setting my house in order.
I start to-morrow for Paris. All my little affairs are comfortably
settled, and I can set out on my little trip to Avernus via Paris
and the habitat of Captain Vauvenarde with a quiet conscience. I have
allayed the anxiety of my sisters, whispered mysterious encouragement
to Maisie Ellerton, held out hopes of her son's emancipation to Lady
Kynnersley, played fairy godmother to various poor