CHAPTER V.

PIONEERS.


Before sitting down to breakfast, on this dim and dreary morning in
February, George Brand went to one of the windows of his sitting-room
and looked abroad on the busy world without. Busy indeed it seemed to
be--the steamers hurrying up and down the river, hansoms whirling along
the Embankment, heavily laden omnibuses chasing each other across
Waterloo Bridge, the underground railway from time to time rumbling
beneath those wintry-looking gardens, and always and everywhere the
ceaseless murmur of a great city. In the midst of all this eager
activity, he was only a spectator. Busy enough the world around him
seemed to be; he alone was idle.

Well, what had he to look forward to on this dull day, when once he had
finished his breakfast and his newspapers? It had already begun to
drizzle; there was to be no saunter up to the park. He would stroll
along to his club, and say "Good morning" to one or two acquaintances.
Perhaps he would glance at some more newspapers. Perhaps, tired of
reading news that did not interest, and forming opinions never to be
translated into action, he would take refuge in the library. Somehow,
anyhow, he would desperately tide over the morning till lunch-time.

Luncheon would be a break; but after--? He had not been long enough in
England to become familiar with the whist-set; similarly, he had been
too long abroad to be proficient in English billiards, even if he had
been willing to make either whist or pool the pursuit of his life. As