Jaffery

od. They were radiantly happy, very much in love with each other. Having brought a common vision to bear upon the glories of nature and art which they had beheld, they were spared

talian wines and "we" found nothing but hideousness in Murano glass. They were, therefore, in perfect accord over decoration and furnishing. The only difference I could see between them was that Adrian loved to wallow in the comfort of a club or another person's house, but

ntly showed us round the establis

iron safe, the bookcase and the bare walls-"no really fine imaginative work can be done among luxurious surroundings

ith a shiver. "Or a condemned cell. But even

rranged for concentration of mind. If it weren't for the necessity of having something to sit upon and something to write at and a few necessary reference books and a lock-up place, we sho

eyes. "But do you think a leather seat for that hard wooden chair-what the Fre

too," said I, "in the w

does look a bit hard

ther seat to-day

Their unblessed condition was obvious. On the large library table were a couple of brass candlesticks with fresh candles (Adrian could not work by electric light), a couple of reams of scribbling paper, an inkpot, an immaculate blotting pad, three virgin quill pens (it was one of Adrian's whimsies to write always with quills), lying in a brass

e (this may be what grammarians call a hysteron proteron-but with women on

ge. In ordinary life he's so dear and human-responsive, you know, to everything I feel and think-and sometimes I quite forget he's different from me. But at others, I'm overwhelmed by the thought of the life going on inside his soul that I can never,

se face between her two han

"ammoniated quinine

who, for the moment, had not quite decided whether to f

ius, dear, just as I tre

d guess. It's a subtle scheme which she thinks is hidden from me; but really it is so transparent that a babe could see through

ould hate to be worshipped. In worship hours I should be smoking a cigar, and who with a sense of congruity can imagine a god smoking a cigar? Besides, worship would bore me to paralysis. But Adrian loved it. He lived on it, just as the new hand in a chocolate factory lives on chocolate creams. The more he was worshipped the happier he becam

. John's Wood, owing to the greater prevalence of upholstered furniture), cigarette between delicate fingers, paradox on his tongue and a Chr

She's making a besot

reement. But . . . the wo

d. "It's of her I'm thinking. When

im all the more

nds out the idio

egan," said I. "The unwavering love of woman f

found none, the proposition being incontrovertible. She mus

go on loving you, Hilar

ure of this wife of mine. It is a pity that she has so little to do with the story of Jaffery which I am trying to relate, for I should like to make her the heroine. You see, I know her so well, or imagine I do, which comes to the same thing, and I should love to present

thless love in Neuchatel, a widow plump and well-to-do. He had looked forward to marry her at the end of the year, and to pass an unruffled life in the snugness of the delicatessen shop which she conducted with such skill; but now alas, she had announced her engagement to another, and his dream of bliss among the chitterlings and liver-sausages was shattered. Herr Gott! what was he to do? Liosha counselled immediate return to Neuchatel and assassination of his rival. To kill another man for her was the surest way to a woman's heart. The waiter approved the scheme, but lacked the courage-also the money to go to Neuchatel. Liosha, espousin

e anything more to do with the

coffee in the drawing-room, approache

, "just you keep out of my

e genteel assembly, bolted from the room, and then solved th

the ethics of this matter, Liosha

ly enough to cry for her, he ought to know what to

t a terrible thing it is to take the

mitted. "But I don't feel about it the sam

her made his living by slaughter before she was born. When he

orse than the pi

d a promise from our fair barbarian never to shoot or jab a knife

blished her in their esteem. She would lend or give anything she possessed. When one of the forlorn and woollen-shawled old maids fell ill, she sat up of nights with her, and in spite of her ignorance of nursing, which was as vast as that of a rhinoceros, magnetised the fragile lady into well-being. I think she was fairly happy. If London had been si

as a toy personality whose quaint vagaries afforded us constant amusement than as an intense human soul. The working out of her destiny did not come within the sphere of our emotional sympathies like that of Adrian and Doria. The latter were of ou

Dante and attended performances of the Intellectual Drama; when Adrian relaxed, she cooked dainties in a chafing dish and accompanied him to Musical Comedy. They entertained in a gracious modest way, and wen

the enjoyment afforded by the delicate sense of taste, whereas, to let one's mind wander from the plane of philosophic t

th the "atmospheres" evoked in the various rooms of the flat. To Barbara and myself, comfortable Philistines, all this appeared exceeding lunatic. But every married couple has a right to lay out its plan of happiness in its own way. If we had made taboo

Adrian, just at this Eastertide, began to strike me as a man lacking some essential of happiness. They spent a week or so with us at Northlands. Adrian confessed dog-weariness. His looks confirmed his words. A vertical furrow between the brows and a little dragging line at each corner of the mouth below the fair moustache forbade the familiar mockery in his pleasant face. In moments of repose the cross of strain, almost suggestive of a squint, appeared in his blue eyes. He was no longer debonair, no longer the lightly laugh

ose; at a quarter to eight he breakfasted; at half past he betook himself to his ascetic workroom and remained there till half-past one. At four o'clock he began a three

eard of this maniacal time-table, "you must put your foot

for more than four hours a day. Quite famous novelists whom I meet at the Athen?um

every sentence he writes-to say nothing of the subtlety of his analysis and the perfect drawing of his pictures. My dear, good people"-she threw out her hands in an impatient gesture-"you don't know what you're talking about. How can you? It's impossible for you to conceive-it's almost impossi

. But I repeat that no human brain since the beginning of time has been capable of spinning cobwebs of fancy for twe

N

hearty a

N

cheery sort of chap to

d, after his winter'

you'll take him away for a couple of months' rest, and

to do her best;

alise Adrian'

o think one could blow the thistledown fellow about whithersoever one pleas

u can twist him round

a wanly indulgent smile

rtist-how can I? He's a thing apart from me altogether. I know perfectly well that thousands of artists' wives wreck their happiness through sheer, stupid jealousy of their husbands' ar

erably greater knowledge of life, our stark common-sense, our deep affection for Adrian cou

heard it with morbid detestation. In the course of a more or less intimate conversatio

love for me. But it gets on my nerves. Instead of sitting down at my desk with nothing in my mind but my day's work to slog through, I hear her voice and I

few ways and hate tobacco ash on my carpet; every room in the house is an arsenal of ash trays. In normal mood Adrian pu

ned the matter t

is new uncomfortable trick of sl

napped. "H

simplest thing in the world. He broke away i

so elementary a proposition goodness only knows. I was beg

uisance. I've got this book of mine on the brain"-he held up his

repose of country things and freedom from day-infesting cares. Already

turning a hair. Why should you worry y

wizened old man speaking to me. The slight cast I h

annily, "was just a pretty amateur story. The ne

aid I. "What's the book about? Tell an old fri

for the dear fellow, and I longed, in the plain man's way, to break down the walls of res

ou. I'll tell nobody-not even that you've told me-neither Doria nor Barbara-it will

vous fingers plucked unconsciously at his evening tie until it

uld give you no idea-" The furrow deepened between his brows-"If I told you the scheme you would get about the same dramatic impression as if you read,

him in so

press a Liebig's Extract of Existence be

g table, so that all the loose brass and glass

tulated, "this is absurd. It's me

st folly in the

ed himself out and drank a stiff whisky and soda.

straight. When the novel of the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth ce

er gesture and went from the room, sl