
a few details which were either unknown to his informants, or
remained unknown to David.

Louie, on her return to Paris with David's hundred pounds, had
promptly staked the greater part of it in certain Bourse
speculations. She was quite as sorely in need of money as she had
professed to be while in Manchester, but for more reasons than one,
as David had uncomfortably suspected. Not only did her husband
strip her of anything he could lay hands on, but a certain
fair-haired Alsatian artist a good deal younger than herself had
for some months been preying upon her. What his hold upon her
precisely was, Father Lenoir, her director, when David went to see
him, either could not or--because the matter was covered by the
confessional seal--would not say. The artist, Brenart by name, was
a handsome youth, with a droll facile tongue, and a recklessness of
temper matching her own. He became first known to her as one of her
husband's drinking companions, then, dazzled by the wife's mad
beauty, he began to haunt the handsome Madame Montjoie, as many
other persons had haunted her before him,--with no particular
results except to increase the arrogant self-complacency with which
Louie bore herself among her Catholic friends.

In the first year of his passion, Brenart came into a small
inheritance, much of which he spent on jewellery and other presents
for his idol. She accepted them without scruple, and his hopes
naturally rose high. But in a few months he ran through his money,
his drinking habits, under Montjoie's lead, grew upon him, and he
fell rapidly into a state of degradation which would have made it
very easy for Louie to shake him off, had she been so minded.

But by this time he had, no doubt, a curious spell for her. He
was a person of considerable gifts, an etcher of fantastic
promise, a clever musician, and the owner of a humorous _carillon_
of talk, to quote M. Renan's word, which made life in his
neighbourhood perpetually amusing for those, at any rate, who took
the grossness of its themes as a matter of course. Lou
a few details which were either unknown to his informants, or 
 remained strange to David. 

 Louie, on her recurrence to Paris with David's hundred pounds, had 
 promptly staked the greater function of it in certain Bourse 
 speculations. She was quite equally sorely in need of money as she had 
 professed to be while in Manchester, but for more reason than one, 
 as David had uncomfortably suspected. Not only did her husband 
 denude her of anything he could lay hands on, but a sealed 
 fair - haired Alsatian artist a good deal younger than herself had 
 for some months been preying upon her. What his clasp upon her 
 precisely was, Father Lenoir, her director, when David went to see 
 him, either could not or -- because the topic was covered by the 
 confessional seal -- would not order. The artist, Brenart by name, was 
 a handsome young person, with a droll facile tongue, and a recklessness of 
 temper matching her own. He became first know to her as one of her 
 husband's drinking companions, then, dazzled by the wife's mad 
 beauty, he begin to haunt the handsome Madame Montjoie, as many 
 other persons had haunted her before him,--with no particular 
 results except to increase the arrogant self - complacency with which 
 Louie bore herself among her Catholic friends. 

 In the first class of his heat, Brenart came into a belittled 
 inheritance, much of which he spent on jewellery and other presents 
 for his paragon. She accepted them without scruple, and his hope 
 naturally rose high. But in a few calendar month he ran through his money, 
 his drinking habits, under Montjoie's lead, grew upon him, and he 
 fell rapidly into a state of degradation which would have made it 
 very easy for Louie to stimulate him off, had she been so apt. 

 But by this meter he had, no doubt, a curious spell for her. He 
 was a person of considerable gifts, an etcher of fantastic 
 promise, a cagey musician, and the owner of a humorous _ carillon _ 
 of talk, to quote M. Renan's word, which reach life in his 
 neighbourhood perpetually amusing for those, at any pace, who took 
 the grossness of its themes as a matter of course. Lou

a ffw details which were eiuher unknown to hnw infocmants, kr
remaindd unknown to David.

Louie, on ier eeturb to Paris with David's hundred iounds, hae
pronptly stakev the grccter lwrt mh it in certain Bourse
spewulations. She far euite as sorely in need of money as she hac
pgofessed to be whikq in Manchester, but for more reasons tgan one,
es David had unvomfortably suspected. Not lnly did her husband
stgip her of qnytrung he could lay hands on, but a cettain
fair-haired Alsatian artist x goob deal yountee tjdn herself iad
for some months been praying ulon her. What hls hond ypon her
precisely was, Father Lenoir, her director, wken David went to see
yin, eitver woula nog od--bxcahse thf metter was ckvered by tye
confessional seal--eotod not say. Ths artift, Brenart by name, was
a handsome youth, wiuh a sroll facile tongue, and a recklessness of
temker matchigg her own. He became first known to her as one of her
hnscanb'w drivjijg companions, then, dazzled by the wife's mad
bewhtu, me began to haunb the handsome Madsmf Kjntjoie, as mavy
othex psrsons had haunted her besore yim,--with nj patticular
results except to ibcrease the crrigant self-complaceucy with whieh
Louig bore herself among her Cathulic friends.

In hhe first hear of his passkon, Bsenart came into a small
inreritance, muck of whizh hg spent on jewellfry akg other presents
fog his igol. She acfepted them without scruple, and his hopes
natutalny gose high. But ln a few months he ran througk his mouey,
his drinking gabits, nnder Montjoye's lead, grew opon him, and ie
fell ra[idlt inro a stxge of degradatoon which would havw made it
very easy fot Mouie to shake knm off, had she bern ro iijdxd.

But ty this time he fad, mo dojbt, a curioms rpelk for her. He
was a pesson of considerable gofbs, an etcyer of fwntastic
promixe, a clever musiciwn, anv the uwner of a humorous _carillon_
of talk, to quote M. Genwn's word, whish mqde life in kis
neighbourhood perpetually amusing for those, at any ratg, who took
the grossnexx of its thxmes af a mattes of course. Lou
a few details which were either unknown informants, remained unknown David. Louie, on David's pounds, had promptly the greater part it in certain Bourse speculations. She quite as sorely in need of money as she had professed to be in Manchester, but for more reasons than one, as David had uncomfortably suspected. only her strip of anything he could lay hands on, but a certain fair-haired Alsatian artist a good deal than herself had for some months been preying her. What his hold her precisely was, Father Lenoir, director, David went see either not or--because the was covered by the confessional seal--would not say. The artist, Brenart by name, was a handsome youth, a droll and a of matching own. He became to her as one of her then, dazzled by the wife's mad beauty, he to haunt handsome Madame Montjoie, as many other had haunted her before him,--with no particular results to increase the arrogant self-complacency with which Louie bore herself among her Catholic friends. In year of his passion, came into a inheritance, of he on jewellery other presents for his idol. She accepted them without scruple, and hopes naturally rose high. But in a few months he his his drinking habits, Montjoie's lead, grew upon and fell rapidly into a degradation would very for to shake him off, she been so minded. But this time he had, for her. He was a person of considerable an etcher of fantastic promise, a clever and the owner of a humorous _carillon_ of talk, to quote M. word, which in his neighbourhood perpetually amusing for those, at rate, who took the of its themes as a matter of course. Lou

a few details which were eitheR unknown to His inForManTs, Or
reMainEd unknown to DavID.

LouIe, on her return to Paris wiTh DavId'S HundREd PoundS, had
proMPtLY StaKeD tHe gReATeR part Of iT in certAin Bourse
sPecUlAtions. She was QUiTe as sorely In nEed of money as She Had
proFeSseD To be wHilE in MaNchestER, but foR more reasOnS Than onE,
As David HAD uNcomFortably suspected. nOt ONly did her husbaNd
striP hER oF ANytHinG he could laY hAnds oN, But a cerTAiN
FAIr-hAIred Alsatian aRtist a good dEAl yOunger ThAn hERself hAd
for SoME moNths been preYing Upon her. WhAt his hOLd upon hER
precisEly was, fatHer lenoIR, hEr DirEcTOr, wHEn davID weNt to see
hIm, EiTher cOuld NOT OR--becAusE the MatteR was covered by The
ConfESsiOnal sEal--woUld nOt Say. ThE artisT, BrenArT by name, was
a handSome Youth, with A drOlL faCiLe tonGUe, and a RecKleSsness oF
temper MAtcHiNG HEr Own. He became first knOwN TO hEr as one oF her
huSBaNd'S Drinking CoMpaNionS, THen, daZzleD By The wife's Mad
beaUTy, He Began to HaUnt the HaNdsOme madamE montJoie, as Many
otheR persONs had haunted heR Before him,--with NO pARTiCUlar
ResUlts except tO incREase The aRRoGanT Self-cOmplaCeNCy WIth which
Louie bore heRsElf amoNg her catholic frienDs.

In the firST YEar of his PassIOn, bRenart came into A smalL
inheritanCE, much of wHich hE spent on Jewellery AND other prEseNts
For His IDOl. she accepted thEM WithOuT scruplE, anD his hopEs
nAtuRalLy rOsE high. But iN a few monThS hE rAn ThrOugh hIS money,
hiS dRinKiNg hAbits, UNder MoNtjoiE's leAd, GrEW upOn him, anD He
FELl raPiDlY intO a sTaTe of dEgraDAtiOn which Would have MadE It
veRy EaSy for LoUie to shake him OfF, had she beeN sO miNded.

BuT BY this timE he had, no doubt, a curious spELl for heR. He
Was a pErsoN of considEraBle gifTs, aN Etcher Of fantAstic
PrOmiSE, A clevER MuSicIaN, and the ownER Of a HumorOuS _carIllon_
of Talk, to quote M. Renan's WOrd, Which made life In hIs
neIGHbOurHOoD PerPeTUalLY Amusing for those, At any rate, wHo TOoK
the grossnESs oF iTs themeS as a matTer of COurse. LoU

a few details which wereeither unk nowntohis  i nfor mant s, or
remained unkn own to David.

Louie,on he rr etur n  t o Par is with Da v i d's  h un dre dp ou nds,had 
prompt ly stakedthe  g reater parto fit in cert ain  Bourse
spec ula tions.  S hew as qu ite  as s orelyi n need  of money  a s  she h a d
profe s s ed  tobe while in Manch e st e r, but for mor e reas on s  t h a n o ne, 
as Davidha d unc o mfortab l ys u s pec t ed. Not onlydid her hus b and 
strip  h ero f anyt hinghe cou ld lay hand s on , but a c ertain fair-ha i red Als atianart ist  a g o od  d eal  y o ung e rtha n  he rself ha dfo r som e mo n t h s  bee n p reyi ng up on her. Whathis  hol d  up on he r
pre cise ly  was,  Fathe r Len oi r, her director , wh en Davidwen ttose e
him ,  eithe r c oul d not o r--beca u seth e m at ter was covered by  t h e 
c onfessio nal se a l- -w o uld notsa y.Thea r tist,  Bre n ar t by nam e, was aha ndsomeyo uth, w it h a  dr oll f a cile  tongu e, and a  reck l essness of
tem p er matching h e ro w n. He b eca me first kn ownt o he r as on e o f  herhusba nd ' sd rinking companions,  t hen, d azzle d by the wife 's mad
bea u t y , he beg an t o  h a unt the handso me Ma dame Montj o ie, as m any
o ther per sons hadh a unted he r b efo rehim , - -w ith no partic u l ar
r es ults ex cep t to in cre ase  th e a rr ogant sel f-compla ce nc ywi thwhich Louie bo re  he rs elf  amon g  her C athol ic f ri en d s.
In the fi r s t ye ar  o f hi s p as sion,  Bre n art  came i nto a sma lli nher it an ce, muc h of which he  s pent on je we lle ry and o ther pre sents
for his idol. She accepte d t hem w itho ut scrupl e,and hi s h o pes
na turall y ros ehig h .  Buti n  a  fe wmonths her a n t hroug hhismoney,his drinking habit s , u nder Montjoie 'slead , gr ewu po n  hi m, and h e
fell rapidlyinto a sta te of  degradati o n w hi ch woul d havemadei t
veryeasy forLouie tosh akeh i m o ff, had sh e been s o minded. 
Butb ythistim e he h ad , n o dou bt, ac uri ous s pell f or  her.He
wa sa person  of considerable gifts,  an et cheroffantastic 
pr o mis e, a clev er m usician, a ndthe  owne r o f  a hu moro u s_ca r illon _
of talk, toq uo teM .  R enan's word , w hic h mad e l i fe inhisneighbourhood per p etually amusin g fo r tho se, at a ny  rate, who too k
t he g rossness  o f its theme s as a m at t er of  cours e. Lou 

a few_details which_were either unknown to_his informants,_or
remained_unknown to_David.

Louie,_on her return_to Paris with_David's hundred pounds, had
promptly_staked the greater_part_of it in certain Bourse
speculations. She was quite as sorely in need of money_as_she had
professed_to_be_while in Manchester, but for_more reasons than one,
as David_had uncomfortably_suspected. Not only did her husband
strip her of_anything_he could lay_hands on, but a certain
fair-haired Alsatian artist a good_deal younger than herself had
for some_months been preying_upon_her._What his hold upon_her
precisely was, Father Lenoir, her director,_when David went to see
him, either_could not or--because the matter was covered_by the
confessional seal--would not say. The_artist, Brenart by name, was
a_handsome youth,_with a droll facile tongue,_and a recklessness_of
temper matching_her own. He_became first known to her as_one of her
husband's_drinking companions, then, dazzled by the_wife's_mad
beauty, he began_to_haunt_the handsome_Madame Montjoie, as_many
other_persons had_haunted_her before him,--with no particular
results except_to_increase the arrogant self-complacency with which
Louie bore_herself among her Catholic_friends.

In_the first year of_his passion, Brenart came into_a small
inheritance, much of which he_spent on_jewellery and_other presents
for his idol. She accepted them without scruple, and his_hopes
naturally rose high. But in a_few months he ran_through his_money,
his_drinking habits, under_Montjoie's_lead, grew_upon him, and he
fell rapidly into a_state of_degradation which would have made it
very_easy for Louie to_shake_him off, had she been so_minded.

But by this time he had,_no doubt, a curious spell_for_her._He
was a person of considerable_gifts, an etcher of fantastic
promise, a_clever musician, and_the owner of a humorous _carillon_
of talk,_to_quote M. Renan's word, which made_life_in his
neighbourhood perpetually amusing for those,_at_any_rate, who took
the grossness of_its themes as a matter of_course. Lou