reason.

Misquith.

You desired to give us a most excellent dinner.

Jayne.

Obviously.

Aubrey.

[Hesitatingly.] Well—I—[glancing at the clock]—Cayley won't turn up now.

Jayne.

H'm, hardly.

Aubrey.

Then you two shall hear it. Doctor, Frank, this is the last time we are to meet in these rooms.

Jayne.

The last time?

Misquith.

You're going to leave the Albany?

Aubrey.

Yes. You've heard me speak of a house I built in the country years ago, haven't you?

Misquith.

In Surrey.

Aubrey.

Well, when my wife died I cleared out of that house and let it. I think of trying the place again.

Misquith.

But you'll go raving mad if ever you find yourself down there alone.

Aubrey.

Ah, but I sha'n't be alone, and that's what I wanted to tell you. I'm going to be married.

Jayne.

Going to be married?

Misquith.

Married?

Aubrey.

Yes—to-morrow.

Jayne.

To-morrow?

Misquith.

You take my breath away! My dear fellow, I—I—of course, I congratulate you.

Jayne.

And—and so do I—heartily.

Aubrey.

Thanks—thanks.

[There is a moment or two of embarrassment.

Misquith.

Er—ah—this is an excellent cigar.

Jayne.

Ah—um—your coffee is remarkable.

Aubrey.

Look here; I daresay you two old friends think this treatment very strange, very unkind. So I want you to understand me. You know a marriage often cools friendships. What's the usual course of things? A man's engagement is given out, he is congratulated, complimented upon his choice; the church is filled with troops of friends, and he goes away happily to a chorus of good wishes. He comes back, sets up house in town or country, and thinks to resume the old associations, the old companionships. My dear Frank, my dear good doctor, it's very seldom that it can be done. Generally, a worm has begun to eat its way into those hearty, unreserved, pre-nuptial friendships; a damnable constraint sets in and acts like a wasting disease; and so, believe me, in nine cases out of ten a man's marriage severs for him more close ties than it forms.

Misquith.

Well, my dear Aubrey, I earnestly hope——

Aubrey.

I know what you're going to say, Frank. I hope so, too. In the meantime let's face dangers. I've reminded you of the usual course of things, but my marriage isn't even the conventional sort of marriage likely to satisfy society. Now, Cayley's a bachelor, but you two men have wives. By-the-bye, my love to Mrs. Misquith and to Mrs. Jayne when you get home—don't forget that. Well, your wives may not—like—the lady I'm going to marry.

Jayne.

Aubrey, forgive me for suggesting that the lady you are going to marry may not like our wives—mine at least; I beg your pardon, Frank.

Aubrey.

Quite so; then I must go the way my wife goes.

Misquith.

Come, come, pray don't let us anticipate that either side will be called upon to make such a sacrifice.

Aubrey.

Yes, yes, let us anticipate it. And let us make up our minds to have no slow bleeding-to-death of our friendship. We'll end a pleasant chapter here to-night, and after to-night start afresh. When my wife and I settle down at Willowmere it's possible that we shall all come together. But if this isn't to be, for Heaven's sake let us recognise that it is simply because it can't be, and not wear hypocritical faces and suffer and be wretched. Doctor, Frank—[holding out his hands, one to Misquith, the other to Jayne]—good luck to all of us!

Misquith.

But—but—do I understand we are to ask nothing? Not even the lady's name, Aubrey?

Aubrey.

The lady, my dear Frank, belongs to the next chapter, and in that her name is Mrs. Aubrey Tanqueray.

Jayne.

[Raising his coffee-cup.] Then, in an old-fashioned way, I propose a toast. Aubrey, Frank, I give you "The Next Chapter!"

[They drink the toast, saying, "The Next Chapter!"

Aubrey.

Doctor, find a comfortable chair; Frank, you too. As we're going to turn out by-and-by, let me scribble a couple of notes now while I think of them.

Misquith and Jayne.

Certainly—yes, yes.

Aubrey.

It might slip my memory when I get back.

[Aubrey sits at a writing-table at the other end of the room, and writes.

Jayne.

[To Misquith, in a whisper.] Frank—— [Misquith quietly leaves his chair and sits nearer to Jayne.] What is all this? Simply a morbid crank of Aubrey's with regard to ante-nuptial acquaintances?

Misquith.

H'm! Did you notice one expression he used?

Jayne.

Let me think——

Misquith.

"My marriage is not even the conventional sort of marriage likely to satisfy society."

Jayne.

Bless me, yes! What does that suggest?

Misquith.

That he has a particular rather than a general reason for anticipating estrangement from his friends, I'm afraid.

Jayne.

A horrible mésalliance! A dairymaid who has given him a glass of milk during a day's hunting, or a little anæmic shopgirl! Frank, I'm utterly wretched!

Misquith.

My dear Jayne, speaking in absolute confidence, I have never been more profoundly depressed in my life.

Morse enters.

Morse.

[Announcing] Mr. Drummle.

[