attire of the last act.

"Now that I am here, what are your highness's commands?" Mangan asked.

"There's a book there--written by a friend of mine," Lionel said, as he
was helping his dresser to get off the glittering top-boots. "She wants
me to do what I can for her with the press. What do I know about that?
Still, she is a very particular friend--and you must advise me."

Mangan rose and went to the mantelpiece and took down Volume I.

"Lady Arthur Castletown--" said he.

"But that is not her real name," the other interposed. "Her real name is
Lady Adela Cunyngham--of course you know who she is."

"I have been permitted to hear the echo of her name from those rare
altitudes in which you dwell now," the other said, lazily. "So she is
one of your fashionable acquaintances; and she wants to secure the puff
preliminary, and a number of favorable reviews, I suppose; and then you
send for me. But what can I do for you except ask one or two of the
gallery men to mention the book in their London Correspondent's letter?"

"But that's the very thing, my dear fellow!" Lionel Moore cried, as he
was getting on his white silk stockings. "The very thing! She wants
attention drawn to the book. She doesn't want to be passed over. She
wants to have the name of the book and the name of the author brought
before the public--"

"Her real name?"