"Wonderfully so, for _you_," says Mrs. Herrick. "Well one day the young man's preference was made 'wonderfully so' too. And it was in this wise. On a certain sunny afternoon, the young woman found herself in a conservatory that opened off a drawing-room, being divided from it only by a hanging Indian curtain; a _hanged_ Indian curtain she used to call it ever afterwards; but that was bad grammar, and bad manners too." "I feel I'm going to sleep," says Desmond, drowsily. "I hope somebody will rouse me when he has done, or pick me out of the water if I drop into it. Such a rigmarole of a story I never heard in my life." "Caviare can't be appreciated by the general; it is too strong for you," says Mr. Kelly, severely. "But to continue----Anything wrong with you, my dear Olga?" "Nothing!" says Mrs. Bohun, with icy indignation. "Well. In this conservatory my heroine of the bangles found herself; and here, too, as a natural consequence, was found the young man. There was near them a lounge,--skimpy enough for one, but _they_ found it amply large for _two_. Curious fact in itself, wasn't it? And I think the young man so far forgot himself as to begin to make violent----and just as he was about to emb----the young woman, whose name was----, she very properly, but with somewhat mistaken haste, moved away from him, and in so doing set all her bangles a-tinkling. Into full cry they burst, whereupon the curtain was suddenly drawn back from the drawing-room side, giving the people there a full view of the conservatory _and_ its--contents! The _denouement_ was full of interest,--positively thrilling! I should advise all true lovers of a really good novel to obtain this book from their libraries and discover it for themselves." Here Mr. Kelly stops, and looks genially around. "I think I shall take to writing reviews," he says, sweetly. "I like my own style." A dead silence follows his "little story," and then Mrs. Herrick lifts her eyes to his. "'I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick: nobody marks you,'" she quotes, with a touch of scorn. "_You_ do, my dear Lady Disdain, or else you would not have addressed me that contemptuous remark." "An absurd story, altogether!" says Olga, throwing up her head, a smile lightening her eyes as they meet Kelly's. At her tone, which is more amused than annoyed, Ronayne lets his hand fall into the water close to hers, and doubtless finds its cool touch (the water's, I mean, of course) very refreshing, as it is fully five minutes before he brings it to the surface again. "True, nevertheless," says Kelly. "Both the principals in my story were friends of mine. I knew--indeed, I may safely say I _know_--them well." "I am glad you said '_were_,'" says Olga, shaking her blonde head at him. Lord Rossmoyne, by this time, is looking as black as a thunder-cloud. "A questionable friend you must be, to tell tales out of school," says Mrs. Herrick.