in itself, wasn't it? And I think the
young man so far forgot himself as to begin to make violent----and just
as he was about to emb----the young woman, whose name was----, she very
properly, but with somewhat mistaken haste, moved away from him, and in
so doing set all her bangles a-tinkling. Into full cry they burst,
whereupon the curtain was suddenly drawn back from the drawing-room
side, giving the people there a full view of the conservatory _and_
its--contents! The _denouement_ was full of interest,--positively
thrilling! I should advise all true lovers of a really good novel to
obtain this book from their libraries and discover it for themselves."

Here Mr. Kelly stops, and looks genially around.

"I think I shall take to writing reviews," he says, sweetly. "I like my
own style."

A dead silence follows his "little story," and then Mrs. Herrick lifts
her eyes to his.

"'I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick: nobody marks
you,'" she quotes, with a touch of scorn.

"_You_ do, my dear Lady Disdain, or else you would not have addressed me
that contemptuous remark."

"An absurd story, altogether!" says Olga, throwing up her head, a smile
lightening her eyes as they meet Kelly's. At her tone, which is more
amused than annoyed, Ronayne lets his hand fall into the water close to
hers, and doubtless finds its cool touch (the water's, I mean, of
course) very refreshing, as it is fully five minutes before he brings it
to the surface again.

"True, nevertheless," says Kelly. "Both the principals in my story were
friends of mine. I knew--indeed, I may safely say I _know_--them well."

"I am glad you said '_were_,'" says Olga, shaking her blonde head at
him. Lord Rossmoyne, by this time, is looking as black as a
thunder-cloud.

"A questionable friend you must be, to tell tales out of school," says
Mrs. Herrick.

"I defy any one to say I have told anything," says Kelly, with
much-injured innocence. "But I am quite prepared to hear my actions, as
usual, grossly maligned. I am accustomed to it now. The benefit of the
doubt is not for _me_."

"There isn't a doubt," says Hermia.

"Go on. I must try to bear it,"--meekly. "I know I am considered
incapable of a pure motive."

"Was it you drew back the curtain?"

"Well, really, yes, I believe it was. I wanted my friend, you see, and I
knew I should find him with the bangles. Yes; it was I drew the
curtain."

"Just what I should have expected fro