Having settled these disagreeable details I went downstairs, but not to
the dinner that was waiting for me, as after the nurse's questions I did
not feel equal to facing the other domestics. Leaving the house I walked
about the streets seeking some small eating-place where I could dine
without being recognised. As I wandered along wearily I heard a harsh
voice behind me calling me by name, and, turning, found that the speaker
was Mr. Stephen Strong. Even in the twilight there was no possibility of
mistaking his flaming red tie.

"You are worried and tired, doctor," said the harsh voice. "Why ain't
you with your friends, instead of tramping the streets after that long
day in court?"

"Because I have no friends left," I answered, for I had arrived at that
stage of humiliation when a man no longer cares to cloak the truth.

A look of pity passed over Mr. Strong's fat face, and the lines about
the pugnacious mouth softened a little.

"Is that so?" he said. "Well, young man, you're learning now what
happens to those who put their faith in fashionable folk and not in the
Lord. Rats can't scuttle from a sinking ship faster than fashionable
folk from a friend in trouble. You come along and have a bit of supper
with me and my missis. We're humble trades-folk, but, perhaps as things
are, you won't mind that."

I accepted Mr. Strong's invitation with gratitude, indeed his kindness
touched me. Leading me to his principal shop, we passed through it
and down a passage to a sitting-room heavily furnished with solid