l, the young man, who having drunk of life to repletion, and
finding that he can but repeat the same love draughts, says: "It is
far too great a bore, I will go," and he goes out of life just as
if he were leaving a fashionable _soiree_ in Piccadilly. That was
exactly the impression he wished to convey. Yes, he would have out
his opera hat and light overcoat. He was a little uncertain whether
he should die in the night, or wait for the day, and considering the
question, he lathered his face. "Curious it is," he thought, "I never
was so happy, so joyous in life before.... These walls, all that I
see, will in a few minutes disappear; it is this I, this Ego, which
creates them; in destroying myself I destroy the world.... How hard
this beard is! I never can shave properly without hot water!"

As he pulled on a pair of silk socks and tied his white necktie he
thought of Lady Helen. Going to bed was not a bad notion--particularly
for a woman, and a woman in love, but it would be ridiculous for a
man. He looked at himself again in the long glass in the door of his
carved mahogany wardrobe, and was pleased to see that, although a
little jaded and worn, he was still handsome. Having brushed his hair
carefully, he looked out the revolver; he did not remember exactly
where he had put it, and in turning out his drawers he came upon a
bundle of old letters. They were mostly from Frank and Lizzie, and in
recalling old times they reminded him that if he died without making
a will, his property would go to the Crown. It displeased him to
think that his property should pass away in so impersonal a manner.
But his mind was now full of death; like a gourmet he longed to taste
of the dark fruit of oblivion; and the delay involved in making out
a will exasperated him, and it was with difficulty that he conquered
his selfishness and sat down to write. Fretful he threw aside the
pen; this little delay had destroyed all his happiness. To dispose of
his property in money and land would take some time; the day would
surprise him still in the world. After a few moments' reflection he
decided that he would leave Belthorpe Park to Frank Escott.

"I dare say I'm doing him an injury ... but no, there's no time for
paradoxes--I'll leave Belthorpe Park to Frank Escott. The aristocrat
shall not return to the people. But to whom shall I leave all my
money in the funds? To a hospital? No. To a woman? I must leave it to
a woman; I hardly know any one but