LUMLEY FERRERS was one of the few men in the world who act upon a
profound, deliberate, and organized system--he had done so even from a
boy. When he was twenty-one, he had said to himself, "Youth is the
season for enjoyment: the triumphs of manhood, the wealth of age, do not
compensate for a youth spent in unpleasurable toils." Agreeably to this
maxim, he had resolved not to adopt any profession; and being fond of
travel, and of a restless temper, he had indulged abroad in all the
gratifications that his moderate income could afford him: that income
went farther on the Continent than at home, which was another reason for
the prolongation of his travels. Now, when the whims and passions of
youth were sated; and, ripened by a consummate and various knowledge of
mankind, his harder capacities of mind became developed and centred into
such ambition as it was his nature to conceive, he acted no less upon a
regular and methodical plan of conduct, which he carried into details.
He had little or nothing within himself to cross his cold theories by
contradictory practice; for he was curbed by no principles and regulated
but by few tastes: and our tastes are often checks as powerful as our
principles. Looking round the English world, Ferrers saw, that at his
age and with an equivocal position, and no chances to throw away, it was
necessary that he should cast off all attributes of the character of the
wanderer and the /garcon/.

"There is nothing respectable in lodgings and a cab," said Ferrers to
himself--that "/self/" was his grand confidant!--"nothing stationary.
Such are the appliances of a here-to-day-gone-to-morrow kind of life.
One never looks substantial till one pays rates and taxes, and has a
bill with one's butcher!"

Accordingly, without saying a word to anybody, Ferrers took a long lease