I pointed out that I had come.

"I don't think it would be possible, sir," he said.

This annoyed me and I asked to see Sir Richard, and insisted until he
came. Then I apologised and explained the situation. He looked only
fifty, but a 'Varsity oar on the wall with the date of the early
seventies, made him older than that; his face had something of the shy
look of the hermit; he regretted that he had not room to put me up. I
was sure that this was untrue, also I had to be put up there, there
was nowhere else within miles, so I almost insisted. Then to my
astonishment he turned to the butler and they talked it over in an
undertone. At last they seemed to think that they could manage it,
though clearly with reluctance. It was by now seven o' clock and Sir
Richard told me he dined at half past seven. There was no question of
clothes for me other than those I stood in, as my host was shorter and
broader. He showed me presently to the drawing-room and there he
reappeared before half past seven in evening dress and a white
waistcoat. The drawing-room was large and contained old furniture but
it was rather worn than venerable, an Aubusson carpet flapped about
the floor, the wind seemed momently to enter the room, and old
draughts haunted corners; the stealthy feet of rats that were never at
rest indicated the extent of the ruin that time had wrought in the
wainscot; somewhere far off a shutter flapped to and fro, the
guttering candles were insufficient to light so large a room. The
gloom that these things suggested was quite in keeping with Sir
Richard's first remark to me after he entered the room: "I must tell
you, sir, that I have led a wicked life. O, a very wicked life."

Such confidences from a man much older than oneself after one has