The fount of riches and the Terror of the departments, clothed in the latest pattern of sumptuous¹ pyjamas², lay in the midst of his magnificent and spacious³ bed, and, with the shaded electric globe over his brow, gazed at the splendours of the vast bedroom which Eve had allotted⁴ to him. It was full, but not too full, of the finest Directoire furniture, and the walls were covered with all manner of engravings and watercolours. Evidently this apartment had been the lair⁵ of the real owner and creator of the great home. Mr. Prohack could appreciate the catholicity and sureness of taste which it displayed. He liked the cornice as well as the form of the dressing⁶-table, and the Cumberland landscape by C.J. Holmes as well as the large Piranesi etching of an imaginary prison, which latter particularly interested him because it happened to be an impression between two "states"—a detail which none but a true amateur could savour. The prison depicted⁷ was a terrible place of torment⁸, but it was beautiful, and the view of it made Mr. Prohack fancy, very absurdly, that he too was in prison, just as securely as if he had been bolted and locked therein. His eye ranged about the room and saw nothing that was not lovely and that he did not admire. Yet he derived⁹ little or no authentic¹⁰ pleasure from what he beheld¹¹, partly because it was the furnishing of a prison and partly because he did not own it. He had often preached against the

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