ave up Damascus and Bagdad and returned to Paris before the
autumn was over. He established himself in some rooms selected for him
by Tom Tristram, in accordance with the latter's estimate of what he
called his social position. When Newman learned that his social position
was to be taken into account, he professed himself utterly incompetent,
and begged Tristram to relieve him of the care. "I didn't know I had a
social position," he said, "and if I have, I haven't the smallest idea
what it is. Isn't a social position knowing some two or three thousand
people and inviting them to dinner? I know you and your wife and little
old Mr. Nioche, who gave me French lessons last spring. Can I invite you
to dinner to meet each other? If I can, you must come to-morrow."

"That is not very grateful to me," said Mrs. Tristram, "who introduced
you last year to every creature I know."

"So you did; I had quite forgotten. But I thought you wanted me to
forget," said Newman, with that tone of simple deliberateness which
frequently marked his utterance, and which an observer would not have
known whether to pronounce a somewhat mysteriously humorous affection of
ignorance or a modest aspiration to knowledge; "you told me you disliked
them all."

"Ah, the way you remember what I say is at least very flattering. But
in future," added Mrs. Tristram, "pray forget all the wicked things and
remember only the good ones. It will be easily done, and it will not
fatigue your memory. But I forewarn you that if you trust my husband to
pick out your rooms, you are in for something hideous."

"Hideous, darling?" cried Tristram.

"To-day I must say nothing wicked; otherwise I should use stronger
language."

"What do you think she would say, Newman?" asked Tristram. "If she
really tried, now? She can express displeasure, volubly, in two or three
languages; that's what it is to be intellectual. It gives her the start
of me completely, for I can't swear, for the life of me, except in
English. When I get mad I have to fall back on our dear old mother
tongue. There's nothing like it, after all."

Newman declared that he knew nothing about tables and chairs, and that
he would accept, in the way of a lodging, with his eyes shut, anything
that Tristram should offer him. This was partly veracity on our hero's
part, but it was also partly charity. He knew that to pry about and look
at rooms, and make people open windows, and poke into sofas with his
cane,