The talk went on briskly. Mrs. Marsh presently joined in; and after the discussion of the atmospheric conditions of Tinker's Reach was exhausted, a criticism of a recent volume of poetry followed, in which Mr. Fleisch and Mrs. Marsh took sides against the other two. At times I lost the thread of the argument, but for the most part I understood them perfectly. Mr. Spence was by far the most proficient. It was wonderful how he was able to express frequently in a single word the idea of an entire sentence. I listened with eager and increasing interest. Every now and then Mr. Barr interrupted the conversation with a torrent of words, sometimes by way of soliloquizing comment on the views expressed, and occasionally addressed to me. In the latter case I always put my fingers on my lips and smiled, a course which had the effect of silencing him for the time being. Meanwhile everybody ate with appetite of the good things provided; and the artist-poet, as though to show his contempt for the doctrines of moderation, helped himself again and again from a crystal pitcher of claret-cup that was at his elbow. Of a sudden, to my great consternation, Mr. Spence looked directly at me and said,-- "Paris?" All my ideas seemed to desert me on the spot. But by a rapid inspiration I shook my head and said,-- "Never." "There. During Commune," continued my interrogator, and I saw from Miss Kingsley's radiant and encouraging smile and nod that I had been right in my assumption that he wished to know if I had ever been there. "Really!" I said, emboldened. "Grisly," said he. "Cat!" almost hissed Mr. Fleisch in his excitement. "Dog!" said Mrs. Marsh. "Horse!" exclaimed Miss Kingsley. Fortunately I recalled what Miss Kingsley had told me regarding Mr. Spence's early experiences in search of extremes, so that I was not as nonplussed as might perhaps have been expected by these ejaculations. "Gruesome!" I said, with a determination to acquit myself creditably. "Unsympathetic!" added Miss Kingsley, rather unnecessarily as I thought. "Not so bad. Lived on them for days," said Mr. Spence, still addressing me. "Time of my novitiate." "Where self undulates freely there is no novitiate, for all is allowable," exclaimed Paul Barr fiercely; and he filled another goblet. I almost felt afraid of his gaze, it had become so intense and ardent. I tried not to look in his direction, though there was an originality and fascination about him that made it next to impossible not to steal an occasional glance across the table. Mr. Spence held up his hand deprecatingly in answer to his friend's tirade, while little Fleisch like a trusty retainer exclaimed once more with fierceness,-- "Boomerang!" Mr. Spence again turned to me, "Worse; night in tomb!" "Beside corpse!" explained Mr. Fleisch. The ladies shivered. "Trifle," murmured Mr. Spence. "Extremity of doleful comprehension!" said Miss Kingsley.