report from others who were more
successful, and he was aware that he had become one of those
unfortunates. Nor could he see any remedy for his position. It was
all blank and black before him. It may be doubted whether he got much
instruction or amusement from the pages of the magazine which he
turned.

At about twelve o'clock he left the club and took his way homewards.
But he did not go straight home. It was a nasty cold March night,
with a catching wind, and occasional short showers of something
between snow and rain,--as disagreeable a night for a gentleman to
walk in as one could well conceive. But he went round by Trafalgar
Square, and along the Strand, and up some dirty streets by the
small theatres, and so on to Holborn and by Bloomsbury Square up to
Tottenham Court Road, then through some unused street into Portland
Place, along the Marylebone Road, and back to Manchester Square by
Baker Street. He had more than doubled the distance,--apparently
without any object. He had been spoken to frequently by unfortunates
of both sexes, but had answered a word to no one. He had trudged on
and on with his umbrella over his head, but almost unconscious of the
cold and wet. And yet he was a man sedulously attentive to his own
personal comfort and health, who had at any rate shown this virtue in
his mode of living, that he had never subjected himself to danger by
imprudence. But now the working of his mind kept him warm, and, if
not dry, at least indifferent to the damp. He had thrown aside with
affected nonchalance those questions which his wife had asked him,
but still it was necessary that he should answer them. He did not
suppose that he could continue to live in Manchester Square in his
present condition. Nor, if it was necessary that he should wander
forth into the world, could he force his wife to wander with him. If
he would consent to leave her, his father-in-law would probably give
him something,--some allowance on which he might exist. But then of
what sort would be his life?

He did not fail to remind himself over and over again that he had
nearly succeeded. He had been the guest of the Prime Minister, and
had been the nominee chosen by a Duchess to represent her husband's
borough in Parliament. He had been intimate with Mills Happerton who
was fast becoming a millionaire. He had married much above himself in
every way. He had achieved a certain popularity and was conscious of
intellect. But at the present mo