I think you should be here to receive her, not later than ten.' 'If I can get my dinner out of my throat by that time, I will come.' When the Tuesday came, the over-driven young man did contrive to get his dinner eaten, and his glass of brandy sipped, and his cigar smoked, and perhaps his game of billiards played, so as to present himself in his mother's drawing-room not long after half-past ten.
Madame Melmotte and her daughter were already there,--and many others, of whom the majority were devoted to literature.

Among them Mr Alf was in the room, and was at this very moment discussing Lady Carbury's book with Mr Booker.

He had been quite graciously received, as though he had not authorised the crushing.

Lady Carbury had given him her hand with that energy of affection with which she was wont to welcome her literary friends, and had simply thrown one glance of appeal into his eyes as she looked into his face,--as though asking him how he had found it in his heart to be so cruel to one so tender, so unprotected, so innocent as herself.

'I cannot stand this kind of thing,' said Mr Alf, to Mr Booker.