Today's Stichomancy for Peter Sellers

of any palace in this neighborhood that is to let."

"Cousin William," Robert Acton interposed, "do you want to do something handsome? Make them a present, for three months, of the little house over the way."

"You are very generous with other people's things!" cried his sister.

"Robert is very generous with his own things," Mr. Wentworth observed dispassionately, and looking, in cold meditation, at his kinsman.

"Gertrude," Lizzie went on, "I had an idea you were so fond of your new cousin."

"Which new cousin?" asked Gertrude.

"Some of the young people in the pew now came along the path. 'The grandchildren,' said Ethel. 'She is probably too old to come to church. Or she is in Europe.'"

"The young people had brought a basket with flowers from their place, and now laid them over several of the grassy mounds. 'Give me some of yours,' said one to the other, presently; 'I've not enough for grandmother's.'"

"Ethel took me rather sharply by the arm. 'Did you hear that?' she asked."

"'It can't be she, you know,' said I. 'He would have come back from Europe.'"

"But we found it out at lunch. It was she, and she had been dead for fifteen years."

finding one editorial open door--it's humiliating. It's changed my whole nature. I wasn't born for poverty--I only flower among really jolly people, and people who never are worried."

The figure of the strange man rose before her--would not be dismissed. "That was the man for me, after all is said and done--a man without a care --who'd give me everything I want and with whom I'd always feel that sense of life and of being in touch with the world. I never wanted to fight--it was thrust on me. Really, there's a fount of happiness in me, that is drying up, little by little, in this hateful existence. I'll be dead if this goes on--and"--she stirred in the bed and flung out her arms--"I want passion, and love, and adventure--I yearn for them. Why should I stay here