truth of it, and if it is obviously uncharacteristic it is wrong to
repeat it. It becomes scandal then, and not till then."

When he was living in London, which was, for the time being, his
home, he lived a regular life, combining more reading with a sociable
life than many people would have thought possible. He had two rooms
in a house in Russell Square. He breakfasted at half-past nine and
read till four, when he went down to his club and talked, or strolled
in the park. He made hardly any engagements, except for the evening;
and admitted hardly anyone, except two or three friends, to see him
at his rooms, and then only after one o'clock, before which hour
he was absolutely invisible. He was so dreadfully angry with his
landlady for showing a gentleman in once in the middle of the
morning, that she literally refused ever to do it again. "He's a good
regular lodger, sir, and doesn't think of money, but he said to me,
'Mrs. Laing, I _don't choose to be disturbed_ before one. If I find
my orders disregarded again, I shall leave the house _that day_.'
I daren't do it, sir. You wouldn't like to deprive me of my lodger,
I know, sir." The last pathetic plea could not be gainsaid, so Arthur
had his way.

Four evenings he devoted to going out, and the other three dining
quietly at home and reading. By the time he left London his reading,
always wide, had become prodigious. His own library was good, and he
had a ticket for the British Museum Reading-room and belonged to two
circulating libraries. He made a point of reading new books (1) if he
was strongly recommended them by specialists; (2) if they reached a
second edition within a month; (3) if they were republished after a
period of neglect—this he held to be the best test of a book.