endeavoured to plead his own cause after his own fashion. This he had done after the good old English plan which is said to be somewhat loutish, but is not without its efficacy. He had looked at her, and danced with her, and done the best with his gloves and cravat, and had let her see by twenty unmistakable signs that in order to be perfectly happy he must be near her. … But he had never as yet actually asked her to love him. But she was so quick a linguist that she had understood down to the last letter what all these tokens had meant.

And there was a Victorian equivalent of Las Vegas, where the best entertainment can be enjoyed for the most reasonable prices, because a gambling house is a profitable business, and the entertainment is a "loss leader:"

Who does not know the outside hall of the magnificent gambling house at Monte Carlo, with all the golden splendour of its music-room within? Who does not know the lofty roof and lounging seats, with all its luxuries of liveried servants, its wealth of newspapers, and every appanage of costly comfort which can be added to it? … [At] Monte Carlo you walk in with your wife in her morning costume, and seating yourself luxuriously in one of those soft stalls which are there prepared for you, you give yourself up with perfect ease to absolute enjoyment. For two hours the concert lasts, and all around is perfection and gilding. … Nothing can be more perfect than the concert-room at Monte Carlo, and nothing more charming; and for all this there is nothing whatever to pay.

Rather a leisurely survey of one aspect of the Victorian scene. And as the author brings the story to a close, some of the characters are rewarded with their own chapters, in order to make their exits. Of these, that of Mr. Grey shows us the destiny of the lawyer who tried to be good and to do good. Disillusioned with how the world has changed under his feet, feeling guilty and inadequate after having had the wool pulled over his eyes by Mr. Scarborough, and uncomfortable with his junior partner's more lenient views of professional ethics, he retires and vows to do good deeds, starting with his sister's family of a drunkard husband and five daughters in need of husbands. He rings their doorbell and is met by Mr. Matterson, a widowed clergyman with five children who has offered to marry Amelia, the eldest. He then learns from Amelia that she has no reservations about leaving Papa, who "is getting to be quite unbearable," and marrying the clergyman.

Poor Mr. Grey, when his niece turned and went back home, thought that, as far as the girl was concerned, or her future household, there would be very little room for employment for him. Mr. Matterson wanted an upper servant who, instead of demanding wages, would bring a little money with her, and he could not but feel that the poor clergyman would find that he had taken into his house a bad and expensive upper servant.

"Never mind, Papa," said Dolly; "we will go on and persevere, and, if we intend to do good, good will certainly come of it."

And we devoutly hope so. There are two more chapters to tie up some loose ends. But this pretty much wraps it up. Is this what comes from a lawyer trying to be good and to do good?

PROMISES, PROMISES

AN OLD MAN'S LOVE

Some children discovered the first diamond in South Africa in 1867, an event described by Anthony Trollope in "The Diamond Fields of South Africa," [6] upon visiting the area during the last six months of 1877. The rush for diamonds then duly turned up five years later in a novel, An Old Man's Love, completed just six months before his death. John Gordon is the adventurer in the story; he goes away to make his fortune in diamonds when he is told that he cannot marry his beloved Mary Lawrie because he is a pauper—even though they have never spoken to each other of their love. He returns three years later as a rich man, only to find that Mary has promised, only a half hour earlier, to marry someone else—Mr. William Whittlestaff, who at fifty years of age is the "old man" of the title.