He had made no local acquaintances, nor had he sought to make any.

Those of his neighbours who had seen the interior of his house had entered it as patients.

They left it as much pleased with Mr.Sheldon as one can be with a man at whose hands one has just undergone martyrdom, and circulated a very flattering report of the dentist's agreeable manners and delicate white handkerchief, fragrant with the odour of eau-de-Cologne.

For the rest, Philip Sheldon lived his own life, and dreamed his own dreams.

His opposite neighbours, who watched him on sultry summer evenings as he lounged near an open window smoking his cigar, had no more knowledge of his thoughts and fancies than they might have had if he had been a Calmuck Tartar or an Abyssinian chief..