The Twelfth Hour

she would. As he became more and more confidential in fact, he would grow more and more distant in manner, so that if they began dinner like old friends, they seemed gradually

odville was anxious to know everything about his rivals; for, though he believed in Sylvia's affection, he was subject to acute, almost morbid, attacks o

open liking was evident and who thought him matrim

uggestion that it was imprudent to leave the young man and Sylvia so much together. S

d difficult to understand. This may be true of an ambitious and hard

ooks (generally falling back on Swinburne and Ella Wheeler Wilcox), receive and meet innumerable people, go to the opera, and do many other agreeable, tedious, or trivial things; but her life was her love for Woodville. And she had all the courage and dignity of real self-surrender. Whatever he did was right. Whatever he said was clever. Everything was perfect, so long as he was there. To his scruples, despairs, delights, and doubts she always answered that, after all, they were only pri

ck her admirers as most girls do in attracting them. She had curious deep delicacies; she disliked nothing so much as to feel or show her power as a woman. Pride or vanity was equally out of the question in her love; it was unselfish and yet it was

all his scruples, Woodville h

eting every day, every moment, at every meal-she, romantic; he, the most impressio

se floral tributes flattered Sir James and Savile; Woodville said they were hideous; and Sylvia (who neither wrote to thank their sender nor even acknowledged them) always had them conveyed immediately to the housekeeper's room. The Greek's intention of marrying Sylvia was in the air. Woodville, Sylvia, and Savile were perhaps the only people who doubted the event's coming off. Ridokanaki was a small, thin, yet rather noticeable-looking man of fifty, with courteous cosm

f the Greek seemed to have asserted itself without a word. It was his habit to express all his ideas in the most hackneyed phrases except when talking business, so that he seemed surprisingly dull and harmless, considering how much he must know, how much he must have seen and done. He had practically ma

ding. Only Price, the footman, sometimes put in a word for poor Mr. Woodville. To say that the romance was known and discussed with freedom in the servant's hall should be needless.

say, sometimes adding, "With all his flowers and motors, what is the other gent after all but

housemaid

o fool; and, mark my words, she would look a

hower of gold. Trillionaire though he was, no hard-up nobleman could be more lavish, especially in small things. Nowadays the romance of wealth is more fascinating than the romance of poverty, even in the servants' hall. And Ridokanaki was not, as they remarked, like one of those mere parvenus from South Africa or America. Belon

d with so much assiduity and who knew that he was still regarded in London not without hope as a splendid match. S

r the declaration. Undoubtedly, he would propose that night. All Sylvia thought about was, that she meant to wear the grey chiffon dress that Woodville liked, and he would think s

ould be fun. Felicity's view of life was that it was great fun. As she had never had any real troubles, she had not yet discovered that a sense of humour adds acutely to one's sufferings at the time, though it may help recovery. To see the absurdity of a grief increases it. It entirely prevents that real enjoyment in magnifying one's misfortunes in order to excite sympathy-an attribute so often seen in women, from char-woman to duchess. But Felicity was not destined to misfortune. Ridokanaki sometimes compared her to a ray of sunshine, and her sister to a moonbeam. The comparison, if not startlingly original, was fairly just. Felicity retorted by saying that the Greek was like a wax-candle burnt at both ends and in the midd

unnecessary lists and go over the wine, went, the day before the party, to see a friend of his, where

Mervy

ehearsal to-day. So Mr. M

called from t

nk! Come in

, he possessed much of the genius of his late father, from whom he inherited, also, his finely-cut features, like some old ivory carving, his

ve Arthur neither more nor less pleasure than he would have received from striped silk, white paint, and other whims of Waring. There were no swords, foils, signed photographs of royalties, pet dogs, or babies, invitation cards on the mantelpiece, nor any of the other luxuries usually seen in illustrated papers as characteristic of "Celebrities at Home". A palm, on its last legs, draped in shabby green silk, was dying by the window. The gloom was mitigated by an air of co

otices, nor looking in the glass. He had, as usual, the noble

le, what do you

" asked Woodville. Arthur's curious craze for souv

ink I did yesterday? You know Jackson-chap who murdered people in a farm? I found out where he went to scho

use, dispropor

ourself," said Woodville a little

nd went all over the school, called at the photograp

ct, and clapped his friend several times

oodville, looking

y Jove!'?" asked M

hich no other comment is possible but an exclamation, or you tel

away the souvenir. Then he sat down, and his ani

are you g

at

his friend, and seemed to fall into a reverie. Then he suddenly said, br

'm not in the mo

see me in this new thing they're bringing out! No.-But I've got a seat at the

ille

ng people, Arthur, and I know what that offer

What do you

d her sister? I like little Lady Chetwode awfully. She's a pretty little thing

y pretends to be, to humour you.

benevolent foreheads, kindly eyes, and that sort of thing; and then she said, well, perhaps any one would look good with such lovely complexions as they have! She says she would have been taken in! She would have engaged all

me. It would be rather

t we'll fix it up, eh? I shall see La

e you c

going. Every

uproar, the snorting, panting, puffing, and agonised th

oodville, going to l

eyes and leant b

id. "It's Bertie-Bert

rtie's always