hn's Wood.

"Don't you think we'd better," Mr Gazebee had said to his wife,
almost trembling at the renewal of his own proposition.

"I think not, my dear," Lady Amelia had answered. "Mamma is not very
particular; but there are little things, you know--"

"Oh, yes, of course," said Mr Gazebee; and then the conversation had
been dropped. He would most willingly have entertained his august
mother-in-law during her visit to the metropolis, and yet her
presence in his house would have made him miserable as long as she
remained there.

But for a week Alexandrina sojourned under Mr Gazebee's roof, during
which time Crosbie was made happy with all the delights of an
expectant bridegroom. Of course he was given to understand that he
was to dine at the Gazebees' every day, and spend all his evenings
there; and, under the circumstances, he had no excuse for not doing
so. Indeed, at the present moment, his hours would otherwise have
hung heavily enough upon his hands. In spite of his bold resolution
with reference to his eye, and his intention not to be debarred from
the pleasures of society by the marks of the late combat, he had not,
since that occurrence, frequented his club very closely; and though
London was now again becoming fairly full, he did not find himself
going out so much as had been his wont. The brilliance of his coming
marriage did not seem to have added much to his popularity; in
fact, the world,--his world,--was beginning to look coldly at him.
Therefore that daily attendance at St. John's Wood was not felt to be
so irksome as might have been expected.

A residence had been taken for the couple in a very fashionable row
of buildings abutting upon the Bayswater Road, called Princess Royal
Crescent. The house was quite new, and the street being unfinished
had about it a strong smell of mortar, and a general aspect of
builders' poles and brickbats; but nevertheless, it was acknowledged
to be a quite correct locality. From one end of the crescent a corner
of Hyde Park could be seen, and the other abutted on a very handsome
terrace indeed, in which lived an ambassador,--from South America,--a
few bankers' senior clerks, and a peer of the realm. We know how vile
is the sound of Baker Street, and how absolutely foul to the polite
ear is the name of Fitzroy Square. The houses, however, in those
purlieus are substantial, warm, and of good size. The house in
Princess Royal Crescent was certainly not substantial, for