to be. Things is awk'ard,
and Sir Thomas, they say, isn't best pleased. But of course it isn't
no affair of mine, Mr. Tom."

"Do they know why?" he asked.

"They do say it's some'at about a young lady."

"Yes; by heavens!" said Tom, jumping up out of his chair. "Oh, Mrs.
Tapp, you can't tell the condition I'm in. A young lady indeed! D----
the fellow!"

"Don't 'ee now, Mr. Tom."

"D---- the fellow! But there's no good in my standing here cursing.
I'll go off again. You needn't say that I've been here, Mrs. Tapp?"

"But you won't go out into the rain, Mr. Tom?"

"Rain,--what matters the rain?" Then he started again, disregarding
all her prayers, and went off eastward on foot, disdaining the use
of a cab because he had settled in his mind on no place to which he
would go.

Yes; they knew all about it, down to the very porters at the office.
Everyone had heard of his love for Ayala; and everyone had heard also
that Ayala had scorned him. Not a man or woman connected by ever so
slight a tie to the establishment was unaware that he had been sent
away from his seat because of Ayala! All this might have been borne
easily had there been any hope; but now he was forced to tell himself
that there was none. He saw no end to his misery,--no possibility of
escape. Where was he to go in this moment of his misery for any shred
of comfort? The solitude of his lodgings was dreadful to him; nor had
he heart enough left to him to seek companionship at his club.

At about ten o'clock he found himself, as it were, by accident, close
to Mr. Bolivia's establishment. He was thoroughly wet through, jaded,
wretched, and in want of sustenance. He turned in, and found the
place deserted. The diners had gone away, and the hour had not come
at which men in quest of later refreshment were wont to make their
appearance. But there were still one or two gas-lights burning; and
he threw himself wearily into a little box or partition nearest
to the fire. Here Signor Bolivia himself came to him, asking in
commiserating accents what had brought him thither in so wretched a
plight. "I have left my coat and umbrella behind," said Tom, trying
to pluck up a little spirit,--"and my dinner too."

"No dinner, Mr. Tringle; and you wet through like that! What shall I
get you, Mr. Tringle?" But Tom declared that he would have no dinner.
He was off his appetite altogether, he said. He would have a bottle
of champagne and a devilled biscuit. Mr. Walker, w