skilfully guided past the pitfalls and dangers.

"I shall insist upon talking it over thoroughly with Mrs. Medcroft
before consenting," he said in the end. "If she's being bluffed into the
game, I'll revoke like a flash. If she's keen for the adventure, I'll
go, Rox. But I've got to see her first and talk it all over--"

"'Pon my word, old chap, she's ripping, awfully good sort, even though I
say it myself. She's true blue, and she'll do anything for me. You see,
Brock," and his voice grew very tender, "she loves me. I'm sure of her.
There isn't a nobler wife in the world than mine. Nor a prettier one,
either," he concluded, with fine pride in his eyes. "You won't be
ashamed of her. You will be proud of the chance to point her out as your
wife, take my word for it." Then they set out for the Ritz.

"Roxbury," said Brock soberly, when they were in the Rue de la Paix,
after walking two blocks in contemplative silence, "my peace of mind is
poised at the brink of an abyss. I have a feeling that I am about to
chuck it over."

"Nonsense. You'll buck up when Edith has had a fling at you."

"I suppose I'm to call her Edith."

"Certainly, and I won't mind a 'dear' or two when it seems propitious.
It's rather customary, you know, even among the unhappily married. Of
course, I've always been opposed to kissing or caressing in public; it's
so middle-class."

"And I daresay Mrs. Medcroft will object to it in private," lamented