me one of those tricks of bearing, one of those
manly, winning ways, which in his eyes was so excellent in the other
man, still he saw them and acknowledged them, and told himself that
they would be all powerful with such a girl as Ayala. Though he
trusted to his charms and his rings, he knew that his charms and his
rings were abominable, as compared with that outside look and natural
garniture which belonged to Stubbs, as though of right,--as though it
had been born with him. Not exactly in those words, but with a full
inward sense of the words, he told himself that Colonel Stubbs was a
gentleman,--whereas he acknowledged himself to be a cad. How could
he have hoped that Ayala should accept such a one, merely because he
would have a good house of his own and a carriage? As he thought of
all this, he hardly knew which he hated most,--himself or Jonathan
Stubbs.

He went down to the family house in Queen's Gate, which was closed
and dark,--having come there with no special purpose, but having
found himself there, as though by accident, in the neighbourhood.
Then he knocked at the door, which, after a great undoing of chains,
was opened by an old woman, who with her son had the custody of the
house when the family were out of town. Sir Thomas in these days had
rooms of his own in Lombard Street in which he loved to dwell, and
would dine at a city club, never leaving the precincts of the city
throughout the week. The old woman was an old servant, and her son
was a porter at the office. "Mr. Tom! Be that you? Why you are as wet
as a mop!" He was wet as any mop, and much dirtier than a mop should
be. There was no fire except in the kitchen, and there he was taken.
He asked for a great coat, but there was no such thing in the house,
as the young man had not yet come home. Nor was there any food that
could be offered him, or anything to drink; as the cellar was locked
up, and the old woman was on board wages. But he sat crouching over
the fire, watching the steam as it came up from his damp boots and
trousers. "And ain't you had no dinner, Mr. Tom?" said the old woman.
Tom only shook his head. "And ain't you going to have none?" The poor
wretch again shook his head. "That's bad, Mr. Tom." Then she looked
up into his face. "There is something wrong I know, Mr. Tom. I hears
that from Jem. Of course he hears what they do be saying in Lombard
Street."

"What is it they say, Mrs. Tapp?"

"Well;--that you ain't there as you used