he hospital, and the miserable room in which the dead child was
left lying, and the rainy street!

CHAPTER XXX

ON A BARREN SHORE

About this time Mr. Scawthorne received one morning a letter which,
though not unexpected, caused him some annoyance, and even anxiety. It
was signed 'C. V.,' and made brief request for an interview on the
evening of the next day at Waterloo Station.

The room in which our friend sat at breakfast was of such very modest
appearance that it seemed to argue but poor remuneration for the
services rendered by him in the office of Messrs. Percival & Peel. It
was a parlour on the second floor of a lodging-house in Chelsea;
Scawthorne's graceful person and professional bearing were out of place
amid the trivial appointments. He lived here for the simple reason that
in order to enjoy a few of the luxuries of civilisation he had to spend
as little as possible on bare necessaries. His habits away from home
were those of a man to whom a few pounds are no serious consideration;
his pleasant dinner at the restaurant, his occasional stall at a
theatre, his easy acquaintance with easy livers of various kinds, had
become indispensable to him, and as a matter of course his expenditure
increased although his income kept at the same figure. That figure was
not contemptible, regard had to the path by which he had come thus far;
Mr. Percival esteemed his abilities highly, and behaved to him with
generosity. Ten years ago Scawthorne would have lost his senses with
joy at the prospect of such a salary; to-day he found it miserably
insufficient to the demands he made upon life. Paltry debts harassed
him; inabilities fretted his temperament and his pride; it irked him to
have no better abode than this musty corner to which he could never
invite an acquaintance. And then, notwithstanding his mental
endowments, his keen social sense, his native tact, in all London not
one refined home was open to him, not one domestic circle of educated
people could he approach and find a welcome.

Scawthorne was passing out of the stage when a man seeks only the
gratification of his propensities; he began to focus his outlook upon
the world, and to feel the significance of maturity. The double
existence he was compelled to lead--that of a laborious and
clear-brained man of business in office hours, that of a hungry rascal
in the time which was his own--not only impressed him with a sense of
danger, but made him profoundly