I might be of
use, perhaps not."

"Certainly not to me, sir," said Darrell, flinging the cloak he had now
found across his shoulders, and striding from the house. When he entered
his carriage, the footman stood waiting for orders. Darrell was long in
giving them. "Anywhere for half an hour--to St. Paul's, then home." But
on returning from this objectless plunge into the City, Darrell pulled
the check-string: "To Belgrave Square--Lady Dulcett's."

The concert was half over; but Flora Vyvyan had still guarded, as she
had promised, a seat beside herself for Darrell, by lending it for the
present to one of her obedient vassals. Her face brightened as she saw
Darrell enter and approach. The vassal surrendered the chair. Darrell
appeared to be in the highest spirits; and I firmly believe that he was
striving to the utmost in his power--what? to make himself agreeable to
Flora Vyvyan? No; to make Flora Vyvyan agreeable to himself. The man did
not presume that a fair young lady could be in love with him; perhaps he
believed that, at his years, to be impossible. But he asked what seemed
much easier, and was much harder--he asked to be himself in love.

CHAPTER V.

IT IS ASSERTED BY THOSE LEARNED MEN WHO HAVE DEVOTED THEIR LIVES TO
THE STUDY OF THE MANNERS AND HABIT OF INSECT SOCIETY, THAT WHEN A
SPIDER HAS LOST ITS LAST WEB, HAVING EXHAUSTED ALL THE GLUTINOUS
MATTER WHEREWITH TO SPIN ANOTHER, IT STILL. PROTRACTS ITS INNOCENT
EXISTENCE, BY OBTRUDING ITS NIPPERS ON SOME LESS WARLIKE BUT MORE
RESPECTABLE SPIDER, POSSESSED OF A CONVENIENT HOME AND AN AIRY
LARDER. OBSERVANT MORALISTS HAVE NOTICED THE SAME PECULIARITY IN
THE MANEATER, OR POCKET-CANNIBAL.

Eleven o'clock, A.M., Samuel Adolphus Poole, Esq., is in his
parlour,--the house one of those new dwellings which yearly spring up
north of the Regent's Park,--dwellings that, attesting the eccentricity
of the national character, task the fancy of the architect and the
gravity of the beholder--each tenement so tortured into contrast with
the other, that, on one little rood of ground, all ages seemed blended,
and all races encamped. No. 1 is an Egyptian tomb!--Pharaohs may repose
there! No. 2 is a Swiss chalet--William Tell may be shooting in its
garden! Lo! the severity of Doric columns--Sparta is before you!
Behold that Gothic porch--you are rapt to the Norman days! Ha! those
Elizabethan mullions--Sidney and Raleigh, rise again! Ho! the trellises