Excuse me a minute; I see they've finished bagatelle." He hurried off, and in a moment the clack of bagatelle began again.

He himself was playing with a cold and spurious energy, running after the balls and exhorting the other players, upon whom a wooden acquiescence seemed to fall.
Shelton crossed the room, and went up to young Curly.

He was sitting on a bench, smiling to himself his private smiles.
"Are you staying here much longer ?" Shelton asked.
Young Curly rose with nervous haste.
"I 'm afraid," he said, "there 's nobody very interesting here to-night." "Oh, not at all!" said Shelton; "on the contrary.

Only I 've had a rather tiring day, and somehow I don't feel up to the standard here." His new acquaintance smiled.
"Oh, really! do you think--that is--" But he had not time to finish before the clack of bagatelle balls ceased, and the voice of the little deep-eyed man was heard saying: "Anybody who wants a book will put his name down.

There will be the usual prayer-meeting on Wednesday next.