closely; and though London was now again becoming fairly full, he did not find himself going out so much as had been his wont.  The brilliance of his coming marriage did not seem to have added much to his popularity; in fact, the world,—­his world,—­was beginning to look coldly at him.  Therefore that daily attendance at St. John’s Wood was not felt to be so irksome as might have been expected.

A residence had been taken for the couple in a very fashionable row of buildings abutting upon the Bayswater Road, called Princess Royal Crescent.  The house was quite new, and the street being unfinished had about it a strong smell of mortar, and a general aspect of builders’ poles and brickbats; but nevertheless, it was acknowledged to be a quite correct locality.  From one end of the crescent a corner of Hyde Park could be seen, and the other abutted on a very handsome terrace indeed, in which lived an ambassador,—­from South America,—­a few bankers’ senior clerks, and a peer of the realm.  We know how vile is the sound of Baker Street, and how absolutely foul to the polite ear is the name of Fitzroy Square.  The houses, however, in those purlieus are substantial, warm, and of good size.  The house in Princess Royal Crescent was certainly not substantial, for in these days substantially-built houses do not pay.  It could hardly have been warm, for, to speak the truth, it was even yet not finished throughout; and as for the size, though the drawing-room was a noble apartment, consisting of a section of the whole house, with a corner cut out for the staircase, it was very much cramped in its other parts, and was made like a cherub, in this respect, that it had no rear belonging to it.  “But if you have no private fortune of your own, you cannot have everything,” as the countess observed when Crosbie objected to the house because a closet under the kitchen-stairs was to be assigned to him as his own dressing-room.

When the question of the house was first debated, Lady Amelia had been anxious that St. John’s Wood should be selected as the site, but to this Crosbie had positively objected.

“I think you don’t like St. John’s Wood,” Lady Amelia had said to him somewhat sternly, thinking to awe him into a declaration that he entertained no general enmity to the neighbourhood.  But Crosbie was not weak enough for this.

“No; I do not,” he said.  “I have always disliked it.  It amounts to a prejudice, I dare say.  But if I were made to live here I am convinced I should cut my throat in the first six months.”

Lady Amelia had then drawn herself up, declaring her sorrow that her house should be so hateful to him.

“Oh, dear, no,” said he.  “I like it very much for you, and enjoy coming here of all things.  I speak only of the effect which living here myself would have upon me.”