“I do not agree with you, Ronald,” replied Lionel, “and I maintain that the evolution of an unsuspicious Othello into a mad bull of jealousy works itself out regardless of frippery. When psychology was the only object of the playwright, and the everlasting study of the actor, dramatic art was at its highest water-mark; but when adaptable environment and the accuracy of costume were made the aim of arduous researches, art fell from its Olympian cloud down to the back-room of an old curiosity shop. Archæology had dethroned psychology; even physiology was reduced to a dissecting-room. Do you believe that the green-eyed passion of an Othello, or the morbid hysteria of a King Lear, would be more enforced by the one wearing the true Venetian uniform, and the other appearing in the barbarian clothing of an early Briton? We must first of all find out whether the passions of the one and the delirium of the other are eternally true to human nature. If they are, what need have you to cut a particular garment for them? Any will do; none will be quite sufficient. You need not clothe Œdipus to understand his evolution; the tragedy he embodies will forever be human, and as long as there exists a suffering humanity, there will be an inadequate struggle between the inner will-power and what is erroneously called—Destiny.” They had come to the Rotunda, and Lionel, with a gracious wave of his hand, led his friends into the hall, in which marble tables were placed near a circular carved stone bench for visitors to recline. “I am sure you will all take some iced champagne or Vouvray out of these tempting amphoras,” said he. They all reclined, and the cooling atmosphere fanned them agreeably. “Is that Montague Vane I see at a distance, tripping daintily over the railings?” Danford went to the door. “Yes, and he is followed by half-a-dozen of his adherents.” “Ah! he is continually inviting me to join his Peripatetic Society; but I have no wish to do so,” and Lionel looked tenderly at Gwen, as he poured out a glass of champagne and offered it to her. “I cannot see at what they arrive in their wanderings through the thoroughfares of life.”