Real rare genius was in that song, nothing forced; and exquisite melody; one of those melodies which fling gold chains about us and lead us off, lead us back into Eden.

Victor hummed at bars of it on the drive homeward.
His darlings had to sing it again in the half-lighted drawing-room.
The bubble-happiness of the three was vexed only by tidings heard from Colney during the evening of a renewed instance of Skepsey's misconduct.
Priscilla Graves had hurried away to him at the close of Mr.John Cormyn's Concert, in consequence; in grief and in sympathy.

Skepsey was to appear before the magistrate next morning, for having administered physical chastisement to his wife during one of her fits of drunkenness.
Colney had seen him.

His version of the story was given, however, in the objectionable humorous manner: none could gather from it of what might be pleaded for Skepsey.

His 'lesson to his wife in the art of pugilism, before granting her Captain's rank among the Defensive Amazons of Old England,' was the customary patent absurdity.