had no friend;--but perhaps he felt
more of that true intimacy, which friendship produces, with Stemm
than with any other human being.

Sir Thomas was a tall thin man, who stooped considerably,--though not
from any effect of years, with a face which would perhaps have been
almost mean had it not been rescued from that evil condition by the
assurance of intelligence and strength which is always conveyed by
a certain class of ugliness. He had a nose something like the great
Lord Brougham's,--thin, long, and projecting at the point. He had
quick grey eyes, and a good forehead;--but the component parts of his
countenance were irregular and roughly put together. His chin was
long, as was also his upper lip;--so that it may be taken as a fact
that he was an ugly man. He was hale, however, and strong, and was
still so good a walker that he thought nothing of making his way down
to the villa on foot of an evening, after dining at his club.

It was his custom to dine at his club,--that highly respectable and
most comfortable club situated at the corner of Suffolk Street, Pall
Mall;--the senior of the two which are devoted to the well-being of
scions of our great Universities. There Sir Thomas dined, perhaps
four nights in the week, for ten months in the year. And it was said
of him in the club that he had never been known to dine in company
with another member of the club. His very manner as he sat at his
solitary meal,--always with a pint of port on the table,--was as
well known as the figure of the old king on horseback outside in
the street, and was as unlike the ordinary manner of men as is that
unlike the ordinary figures of kings. He had always a book in his
hand,--not a club book, nor a novel from Mudie's, nor a magazine, but
some ancient and hard-bound volume from his own library, which he had
brought in his pocket, and to which his undivided attention would be
given. The eating of his dinner, which always consisted of the joint
of the day and of nothing else, did not take him more than five
minutes;--but he would sip his port wine slowly, would have a cup of
tea which he would also drink very slowly,--and would then pocket
his book, pay his bill, and would go. It was rarely the case that
he spoke to any one in the club. He would bow to a man here and
there,--and if addressed would answer; but of conversation at his
club he knew nothing, and hardly ever went into any room but that in
which his dinner was served to him