* * * * *


THE MAGIC CIRCLE


The persistent chirping of a sparrow made it almost harder to bear. Lady
Brooke finally rose abruptly from the table, her black brows drawn close
together, and swept to the window to scare the intruder away.

"I really have not the smallest idea what your objections can be," she
observed, pausing with her back to the room.

"A little exercise of your imagination might be of some assistance to
you," returned her husband dryly, not troubling to raise his eyes from
his paper.

He was leaning back in a chair in an attitude of unstudied ease. It was
characteristic of Sir Roland Brooke to make himself physically
comfortable at least, whatever his mental atmosphere. He seldom raised
his voice, and never swore. Yet there was about him a certain amount of
force that made itself felt more by his silence than his speech.

His young wife, though she shrugged her shoulders and looked
contemptuous, did not venture upon open defiance.

"I am to decline the invitation, then?" she asked presently, without
turning.

"Certainly!" Sir Roland again made leisurely reply as he scanned the