the train towards Highgate.

Although thus supported by the knowledge of his new possession of
considerable value, he was not proof against the familiar thoughts which
the suburban streets and the damp shrubs growing in front gardens
and the absurd names painted in white upon the gates of those gardens
suggested to him. His walk was uphill, and his mind dwelt gloomily upon
the house which he approached, where he would find six or seven brothers
and sisters, a widowed mother, and, probably, some aunt or uncle sitting
down to an unpleasant meal under a very bright light. Should he put in
force the threat which, two weeks ago, some such gathering had wrung
from him--the terrible threat that if visitors came on Sunday he should
dine alone in his room? A glance in the direction of Miss Hilbery
determined him to make his stand this very night, and accordingly,
having let himself in, having verified the presence of Uncle Joseph by
means of a bowler hat and a very large umbrella, he gave his orders to
the maid, and went upstairs to his room.

He went up a great many flights of stairs, and he noticed, as he had
very seldom noticed, how the carpet became steadily shabbier, until it
ceased altogether, how the walls were discolored, sometimes by cascades
of damp, and sometimes by the outlines of picture-frames since removed,
how the paper flapped loose at the corners, and a great flake of plaster
had fallen from the ceiling. The room itself was a cheerless one to
return to at this inauspicious hour. A flattened sofa would, later
in the evening, become a bed; one of the tables concealed a washing
apparatus; his clothes and boots were disagreeably mixed with books
which bore the gilt of college arms; and, for decoration, there
hung upon the wall photographs of bridges and cathedrals and large,
unprepossessing groups of insufficiently clothed young men, sitting in
rows one above another upon stone steps. There was a look of meanness
and shabbiness in the furniture and curtains, and nowhere any sign of
luxury or even of a cultivated taste, unless the cheap classics in the
book-case were a sign of an effort in that direction. The only object
that threw any light upon the character of the room's owner was a large
perch, placed in the window to catch the air and sun, upon which a tame
and, apparently, decrepit rook hopped dryly from side to side. The bird,
encouraged by a scratch behind the ear, settled upon Denham's shoulder.
He lit hi