'Now, you go home to bed, Mills, and leave me to manage him.' The interview ended, and the steward withdrew.

The night, as he had said, was just such an one as the night of twenty-two years before, and the events of the evening destroyed in him all regard for the season as one of cheerfulness and goodwill.

He went off to his own house on the further verge of the park, where he led a lonely life, scarcely calling any man friend.

At eleven he prepared to retire to bed--but did not retire.

He sat down and reflected.