ing an estate in England, the Prince's Gate house, the impending ball, etc. At every word she said, Chessingham looked more and more gloomy.
"Very bad, very bad," he said. "Worse and worse. He must be very ill, indeed, if he thinks it necessary to talk that way."
Gladys laughed at Chessingham's interpretation of Mr. Romaine's remarks, and reminded him of his oft-repeated prediction that Mr. Romaine would live to bury all of them.
"It is simply the same old puzzle," he said at last, impatiently. "I thought heretofore that nothing ailed him except his diabolically ingenious imagination. Now, I believe that everything ails him—but I cannot tell."
The day passed on with leaden feet to Mr. Romaine, sitting, suffering and smiling, in his easy chair. At six o'clock, he called for Bridge to dress him for the evening as usual. Bridge, thoroughly frightened, turned pale at this.
"Mr. Romaine," he said, pleadingly, "I'm afraid, sir, it 'll—be the death of you."
"You 'll be the death of me another way," vigorously responded Mr. Romaine. "You 'll enrage me so that I 'll break a blood vessel."
Bridge went and got the necessary things,
