book six

of ‘Catherine’s Repentance.’” “Catherine’s Repentance” was the gigantic novel upon which Mrs. Greyne was at that moment engaged.

“I will not disguise from you, Eustace,” continued Mrs. Greyne, looking increasingly Rembrandtesque, “that, in my present work, I am taking a somewhat new departure.”

“Well, but we are very comfortable here,” said Mr. Greyne.

With each new book they had changed their abode. “Harriet” took them from Phillimore Gardens to Queensgate Terrace; “Jane’s Desire” moved them on to a corner house in Sloane Street; with “Isobel’s Fortune” they passed to Curzon Street; “Susan’s Vanity” landed them in Coburg Place; and, finally, “Margaret’s Involution” had planted them in Belgrave Square. Now, with each of these works of genius Mrs. Greyne had taken what she called “a new departure.” Mr. Greyne’s remark is, therefore, explicable.

“True. Still, there is always Park Lane.”

She mused for a moment. Then, leaning more heavily upon the carved lions of her chair, she continued:

“Hitherto, although I have sometimes dealt with human frailty, I have treated it gently. I have never betrayed a Zola-spirit.”

“Zola! My darling!” cried Mr. Eustace Greyne. “You are surely not going to betray anything of that sort now!”

“If she does we shall soon have to move off to West Kensington,” was his secret thought.

“No. But in