I had simply, I suppose, a change of heart, and it must have begun when I received my manuscript back from Mr. Pinhorn. Mr. Pinhorn was my chief, as he was called in the office: he had accepted the high mission of bringing the paper up. This was a weekly periodical, and had been supposed to be almost past redemption when he took hold of it. It was Mr. Deedy who had let it down so dreadfully-he was never mentioned in the office now save in connection with that misdemeanour.

"The Signorino will take coffee?" old Marietta asked, as she set the fruit before him. Peter deliberated for a moment; then burned his ships. "Yes," he answered. "But in the garden, perhaps?" the little brown old woman suggested, with a persuasive flourish.

On the twenty-second anniversary of Susanna's birth, old Commendatore Fregi, her guardian, whose charge, by the provisions of her father's will, on that day terminated, gave a festa in her honour at his villa in Vallanza. Cannon had been fired in the morning: two-and-twenty salvoes, if you please, though Susanna had protested that this was false heraldry, and that it advertised her, into the bargain, for an old maid. In the afternoon there had been a regatta. Seven tiny sailing-boats, monotypes, -the entire fleet, indeed, of the Reale Yacht Club d'Ilaria-had described a triangle in the bay,...

I woke up very gradually this morning, and it took me a little while to bethink myself where I had slept-that it had not been in my own room in the Cromwell Road. I lay a-bed, with eyes half-closed, drowsily look looking forward to the usual procession of sober-hued London hours, and, for the moment, quite forgot the journey of yesterday, and how it had left me in Paris, a guest in the smart new house of my old friend, Nina Childe. Indeed, it was not until somebody tapped on my door, and I roused myself to call out 'Come in, ' that I noticed the strangeness of the wall-paper, and then, after...