He found the city of chalk and shingles not quite so agreeable as last
year. He discovered that it had no trees. There was there, also, just
everybody that he did not wish to see. It was one great St. James'
Street, and seemed only an anticipation of that very season which he
dreaded. He was half inclined to go somewhere else, but could not fix
upon any spot. London might be agreeable, as it was empty; but then
those confounded accounts awaited him. The Bird of Paradise was a sad
bore. He really began to suspect that she was little better than an
idiot: then, she ate so much, and he hated your eating women. He gladly
shuffled her off on that fool Count Frill, who daily brought his guitar
to Kemp Town. They just suited each other. What a madman he had been, to
have embarrassed himself with this creature! It would cost him a pretty
ransom now before he could obtain his freedom. How we change! Already
the Duke of St. James began to think of pounds, shillings, and pence. A
year ago, so long as he could extricate himself from a scrape by force
of cash, he thought himself a lucky fellow.
The Graftons had not arrived, but were daily expected.
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