_There was once a dear called Titus. He was most awfully handsome and generous, and when he married he spoiled his wife to death. She was as greedy and selfish as he was sweet, and though he gave her everything he’d got, that wasn’t enough. So then, though he was all tired, he took off his shabby coat and began to work. He worked and worked and always swore he liked it, but he loathed it really. And they both knew why he was doing it, but he pretended it amused him, and she pretended to believe him for very shame. And then one day she really did want him to stop. And when he saw that she meant it, he gave her all the gold he had made. “If that’s enough,” he said gently, “why, then I’ll stop. But if it isn’t, dear, I must try to go on.” And when he said that, all of a sudden HER DESIRE FOR RICHES DIED. . . . And she didn’t know whether to laugh or whether to cry because at last she saw that, money or no, nothing could ever alter the fact that she was the richest woman in all the world—because she was_ _TITUS’ WIFE_. Titus folded the ‘copy’ and slid it into his case. Then he struck a match and burned the ‘original’ up. Blanche never turned. As he put an arm about her— “Which did you burn?” she said. Titus laid his head against hers. “I kept my love-letter,” he said. His darling flung her arms round his neck. Summer was in. * * * * * ‘Cheviot’s’ was closed the next day. A week later a letter bearing the post-mark of Rapallo was delivered at Malison Hall. Its contents consisted of a document and three hundred and fifteen pounds in Bank of England notes. The document appeared to be a bill which the notes were paying. _PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL._ _Mrs. Titus Cheviot._ _Dr. to J.T. Blatchbourne, Esq._ _December 6th._ _ One brandy and soda_ 105 0 0 _One telephone call_ 105 0 0 _One tea_ 105 0 0 ——————— 315 0 0 ======= PEREGRINE PEREGRINE “I sometimes think,” said Mrs. Carey Below, “that you are losing your mind.” Peregrine Carey Below put a hand to his head. “I’m not so sure I’m not,” he said wearily. “Is that meant to be rude?” Peregrine raised his eyes to meet the glint of steel in those of his wife. For a moment he seemed upon the edge of protest: then the cold, level gaze bore down his spirit. Peregrine felt as though he were seated in cold water. He shifted uneasily. “No, no,” he said. “Of course it isn’t. I—I only——”