"Do you know how long I've been here?" Those who know how inconsequent daily familiarity makes blood relations who live together, will see nothing odd in Miss Priscilla's reply: "My dear niece, listen to me, and do not interrupt. What was the expression I used when you first announced your engagement to Reginald? ... No--I did not say it was a come-down...." "Yes, you did." "Afterwards perhaps, but _at first_, Euphemia? Be candid. Did I, or did I not, use the expression, 'Artists are all alike?' ... I did? Very well! And I said too--and you cannot deny it--that any woman who married them did it with her eyes open, and had only herself to thank for it. They are all alike, and Reginald is no exception to the rule." At this point Miss Priscilla may have had misgivings about sustaining the performance, for she ended abruptly on the dominant, "And then you ask me if I know how long you have been here!" "Because it's six months, Aunty--over six months! Is it any wonder that I should ask? Besides, when I first came I never _meant_ to stay. I was going back when Reginald wrote that letter. Fancy his daring to say there was no--what was that he called it?--you know--'casus belli!' An odious girl like that! And then to say if I really believed it I ought to go into Court and swear to things! How _could_ I, with that Sairah? Oh dear--if it had only been a lady!--or even a decent woman! Anything one could produce! But--Sairah!" This young lady--mind you!--was only trying to express a very common feeling, which, if you happen to be a young married woman you will probably recognize and sympathize with. Suppose you were obliged to seek legal ratification of your case against a faithless spouse, think how much more cheerfully you would appear in court if the opposition charmer was a Countess! Think how grateful you would be if the culprits had made themselves indictable in terms you could use, and still know which way to look; if, for instance, they had had the decency to reside at fashionable hotels and pass themselves off as the Spenser Smyths, or the Poole Browns. These are only suggestions, to help your imagination. The present writer knows no such persons. In fact, he made these names out of his own head. But--Sairah! Just fancy reading in the _Telegraph_ that the petitioner complained of her husband's misconduct with ... Oh--it would be too disgusting for words! After all, she, the petitioner, had a right to be considered a--she detested the expression, but what on earth were you to say?--LADY! What had she done that she should be dragged down and degraded like that?