After that George Brand seemed to take very little interest in this
heterogeneous banquet: he stared absently at the foreign-looking people,
at the hurrying waiters, at the stout lady behind the bar. Even when Mr.
Lind told his daughter that her black satin mob-cap, with its wonderful
intertwistings of Venetian chain, looked very striking in a mirror
opposite, and when Lord Evelyn eagerly gave his friend the credit of
having selected that birthday gift, he did not seem to pay much heed.
When, after all was over, and he had wished Natalie "_Bon voyage_" at
the door of the brougham, Lord Evelyn said to him,

"Come along to Clarges Street now and smoke a cigar."

"No, thanks!" he said. "I think I will stroll down to my rooms now."

"What is the matter with you, Brand? You have been looking very glum."

"Well, I have been thinking that London is a depressing sort of a place
for a man to live in who does not know many people. It is very big, and
very empty. I don't think I shall be able to stand it much longer."




CHAPTER VII.

IN SOLITUDE.


A blustering, cold morning in March; the skies lowering, the wind
increasing, and heavy showers being driven up from time to time from the