I shall have the club to myself.

You know how I'm living this winter, rattling round in that empty house.

My wife meant to come to town today, but she's put it off again, and how is a fellow to dine alone in a room with the looking-glasses covered, and nothing but a bottle of Harvey sauce on the side-board?
I say, Lawrence, chuck your engagement and take pity on me--it gives me the blue devils to dine alone, and there's nobody but that canting ass Wetherall in the club." "Sorry, Gus--I can't do it." As Selden turned away, he noticed the dark flush on Trenor's face, the unpleasant moisture of his intensely white forehead, the way his jewelled rings were wedged in the creases of his fat red fingers.

Certainly the beast was predominating--the beast at the bottom of the glass.

And he had heard this man's name coupled with Lily's! Bah--the thought sickened him; all the way back to his rooms he was haunted by the sight of Trenor's fat creased hands---- On his table lay the note: Lily had sent it to his rooms.