Could you come to lunch next Sunday?
He invites you." Warburton shook his head.

He had never cared for the acquaintance of rich men, and was less than ever disposed to sit at their tables.

All his anxieties regarding Sherwood's mental condition having been set at rest, he would go on with his grocer's life as long as need be, strengthened with the hope that shone before him.
The end of July had come.

After a week of rain, the weather had turned bright, with a coolness at morning and evening very pleasant at this time of year in London streets.

Warburton had business in the City which he must needs see to personally; he was on the point of leaving the shop, dressed as became a respectable citizen, silk hat and all, when in the doorway appeared Miss Bertha Cross.