calling on dear mamma till the next opportunity. Ta-ta, Julius. You know
where to find me. Come, and dine. We'll give you a steak at Nagle's that
will make a man of you."

He went out. The tall footmen eyed his lordship's second son with
unaffected respect. They had seen him, in public, at the annual festival
of the Christian-Pugilistic-Association, with "the gloves" on. He could
have beaten the biggest man in the hall within an inch of his life in
three minutes. The porter bowed as he threw open the door. The whole
interest and attention of the domestic establishment then present was
concentrated on Geoffrey. Julius went up stairs to his mother without
attracting the slightest notice.

The month was August. The streets were empty. The vilest breeze that
blows--a hot east wind in London--was the breeze abroad on that day.
Even Geoffrey appeared to feel the influence of the weather as the cab
carried him from his father's door to the hotel. He took off his hat,
and unbuttoned his waistcoat, and lit his everlasting pipe, and growled
and grumbled between his teeth in the intervals of smoking. Was it only
the hot wind that wrung from him these demonstrations of discomfort? Or
was there some secret anxiety in his mind which assisted the depressing
influences of the day? There was a secret anxiety in his mind. And the
name of it was--Anne.

As things actually were at that moment, what course was he to take with
the unhappy woman who was waiting to hear from him at the Scotch inn?

To write? or not to write? That was the question with Geoffrey.

The preliminary difficulty, relating to addressing a letter to Anne at