Contents:

CHAPTER I.ùA Tale of Two Clubs.

CHAPTER II.ùIn the Snow.

CHAPTER III.ùAn Academic Pothouse.

CHAPTER IV.ùMiss Marlett's.

CHAPTER V.ùFlown.

CHAPTER VI.ùAt St. Gatien's.

CHAPTER VII.ùAfter the Inquest.

CHAPTER VIII.ùThe Jaffa Oranges.

CHAPTER IX.ùMrs. St. John Deloraine

CHAPTER X.ùTraps.

CHAPTER XI.ùThe Night of Adventures.

CHAPTER XII.ùA Patient.

CHAPTER XIII.ùAnother Patient.

CHAPTER XIV.ùFound.

CHAPTER XV.ùThe Mark of Cain.

CHAPTER XVI.ùThe Verdict of Fate.

EPILOGUE.

Chapter One excerpt:

A Tale of Two Clubs.

In the Strangers' Room of the Olympic Club the air was thick with tobacco-smoke, and, despite the bitter cold outside, the temperature was uncomfortably high. Dinner was over, and the guests, broken up into little groups, were chattering noisily. No one had yet given any sign of departing: no one had offered a welcome apology for the need of catching an evening train.

Perhaps the civilized custom which permits women to dine in the presence of the greedier sex is the proudest conquest of Culture. Were it not for the excuse of "joining the ladies," dinner-parties (Like the congregations in Heaven, as described in the hymn) would "ne'er break up," and suppers (like Sabbaths, on the same authority) would never end.

"Hang it all, will the fellows never go?"

So thought Maitland, of St. Gatien's, the founder of the feast. The inhospitable reflections which we have recorded had all been passing through his brain as he rather moodily watched the twenty guests he had been feedingùone can hardly say entertaining. It was a "duty dinner" he had been givingùalmost everything Maitland did was done from a sense of dutyùyet he scarcely appeared to be reaping the reward of an approving conscience. His acquaintances, laughing and gossipping round the half-empty wine-glasses, the olives, the scattered fruit, and "the ashes of the weeds of their delight," gave themselves no concern about the weary host. Even at his own party, as in life generally, Maitland felt like an outsider. He wakened from his reverie as a strong hand was laid lightly on his shoulder.

"Well, Maitland," said a man sitting down beside him, "what have you been doing this long time?"

"What have I been doing, Barton?" Maitland answered. "Oh, I have been reflecting on the choice of a life, and trying to humanize myself! Bielby says I have not enough human nature."

"Bielby is quite right; he is the most judicious of college dons and father-confessors, old man. And how long do you mean to remain his pupil and penitent? And how is the pothouse getting on?"