his words conveyed; whereupon he immediately selected a cigar, saying as he
did so, "So you were born in summer, --the time of all good things. Well,
'Thy dearest wish, wish I thee,' and may it not pass in the smoking!"

She swept him a deep, mock courtesy.

Afer this, Ruth sat a rather silent listener to the conversation. She knew
that they were discussing the pros and cons of the advantages for a
bachelor of club life over home life. She knew that Louis was making some
brilliantly cynical remarks, --asserting that the apparent privacy of the
latter was delusive, and that the reputed publicity of the former was
deceptive, as it was even more isolated than the latter. All of which the
doctor laughed down as untruly epigrammatic.

"Then there is only one loophole for the poor bachelor," Mrs. Levice summed
up, "and that is to marry. Louis complains of the club, and thinks himself
a sort of cynosure in a large household. You, Doctor, complain of the want
of coseyness in a bachelor establishment. To state it simply, you need a
wife."

"And oust my Pooh-ba! Madame, you do not know what a treasure that old
soldier of mine is. If I call him a veritable Martha, I shall but be
paying proper tribute to the neatness with which he keeps my house and
linen; he entertains my palate as deliciously as a Corinne her salon,
and--is never in my way or thoughts. Can you commend me any woman so
self-abnegatory?"

"Many women, but no wife, I am glad to say. But you need one."

"So! Pray explain wherein the lack is apparent."