one of them has since been out in the rain cannot be taken to act retrospectively. The two sopping females quartered themselves upon two dry bachelors."
"Be it so."
"The question then arises," said Maxwell, dropping the argumentative form in which he had opened the case, "what the devil are we to do?"
"Precisely. And what do you suggest?"
"There are three courses open to us: firstly, to allow these ladies to occupy our chambers until we can dispose of them satisfactorily, and get rooms at Sams' Hotel for ourselves: secondly, to allow them to occupy our chambers and not get rooms at Sams' Hotel for ourselves—to occupy them conjointly in short; and thirdly, to wash our hands of the whole affair, and, by placing the sopping ladies on the landing and once more sporting our oak, reduce the present complicated state of things to its normal simplicity."
I am bound, in justice to Maxwell, to admit that I believe that he placed his last course before me, simply that the beauty of his argument might not be impaired by the omission of any of its features. As he himself expressed it in reply to my expostulations, he did not suggest it as a prudent course—he simply threw it out for my consideration.
It did not take us long to determine that the first and second propositions alone demanded our serious attention.
"You see," said Maxwell, "you get two ladies and two gentlemen on the one hand, and a sitting-room and a double-bedded bed-room on the other. There is an
