wright's tiresomely reiterated axiom
that it was the Cinderella of professions and the chosen field of
ghastly injustice. He had embraced architecture; he had determined to
follow exactly in the footsteps of Mr. Enwright; he had sworn to
succeed. But could he succeed? Suppose he failed! Yes, his faith
faltered. He was intensely, miserably afraid. He was the most serious
man in Russell Square. Astounding that only a few minutes ago he had
hung triumphantly by his feet from the mantelpiece!

Mr. Enwright kicked-to the door of the cupboard.

"Look here," he said to his partner, "I shan't be back just yet. I have
to go and see Bentley. I'd forgotten it."

Nobody was surprised at this remark. Whenever Mr. Enwright was
inconveniently set back he always went off to visit Bentley, the
architect of the new Roman Catholic Cathedral at Westminster, on the
plea of an urgent appointment.

"_You_ had a look at the cathedral lately?" he demanded of George as he
left.

"No, I haven't," said George, who, by reason of a series of
unaccountable omissions, and of the fullness of his life as an architect
and a man of the world, had never seen the celebrated cathedral at all.

"Well," said Mr. Enwright sarcastically, "better take just a glance at
it--some time--before they've spoilt the thing with decorations. There's
a whole lot of 'em only waiting till Bentley's out of the way to begin
and ruin it."

II

Before the regular closing hour of the office the two articled pupils
had left and were walking side by side through Bloomsbury. They skirted
the oval garden of Bedford Square, which, lying off the main track to
the northern termini, and with nothing baser in it than a consulate or
so, took precedence in austerity and selectness over Russell Square,
which had consented to receive a grand hotel or 'modern caravanserai'
and a shorthand school. Indeed the aspect of Bedford Square, where the
great institution of the basement and area still flourished in
perfection, and wealthy menials with traditional manners lived sensually
in caves beneath the spacious, calm salons of their employers and
dupes,--the aspect of Bedford Square gave the illusion that evolution
was not, and that Bloomsbury and the whole impressive structure of
British society could never change. Still, from a more dubious
Bloomsbury, demure creatures with inviting, indiscreet eyes were already
traversing the prim flags of Bedford Square on their way to the
evening'