It was a task worthy of a man who was not satisfied with average aims.

He would crush this tyrannous passion in his heart, cost him what struggle it might, and the reward would be a noble one.
He rose at length with a haggard face.

It was long past the hour at which he usually took his mid-day meal, and he had no appetite for food.

He went to a restaurant, however, and made pretence of eating; thence into the smoking-room, where he spent the time till five o'clock, drinking coffee and reading papers.

His only object now was to kill time.
At half-past eight he was in Lambeth.