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 sadly lacking in backbone when brought to the test, but his sternest critics could not deny that "before everything he was a gentleman."

Mrs. Wren ascribed her own pure taste in manhood to the fact that she had begun her career in the legitimate drama under the ægis of Mr. Painswick at the Theater Royal, Edinburgh. He, too, had been before everything a gentleman. Mr. Painswick had shaped Lydia Mifflin, as she was then, in his own inimitable mold. Upon a day she was to play Grace to his Digby Grant in "The Two Roses." Then it was, as she had always felt, that she had touched her high-water mark; and the signal occasion was ever afterwards a beacon in her life. From that bright hour the Mr. Painswick standard had regulated the fair Lydia's survey of the human male. Even the late lamented Mr. H. Blandish Wren, who was without a peer in "straight" comedy, whose Steggles in "London Assurance" had never been surpassed, even that paladin. Still it isn't quite fair to give away State secrets!

Mrs. Wren had once said of Charles Cheesewright "that he was not out of the top drawer." However, if he was not of the caste of Vere de Vere she had to own that "he had points." He was one of those young men who mean more than they say, who do better than they promise, who clothe their thoughts with actions rather than words. Also, he had two motors—a Daimler and a Rolls-Royce, he had rooms in the Albany, and though perhaps just a little inclined to overdress, he had such a sure taste in jewelry that he took his financée once a week to Cartier's. And beyond everything else, he had