Then came the time of Lady de Courcy’s visit to town, and Alexandrina moved herself off to Portman Square.  There was some apparent comfort in this to Crosbie, for he would thereby be saved from those daily dreary journeys up to the north-west.  I may say that he positively hated that windy corner near the church, round which he had to walk in getting to the Gazebee residence, and that he hated the lamp which guided him to the door, and the very door itself.  This door stood buried as it were in a wall, and opened on to a narrow passage which ran across a so-called garden, or front yard, containing on each side two iron receptacles for geraniums, painted to look like Palissy ware, and a naked female on a pedestal.  No spot in London was, as he thought, so cold as the bit of pavement immediately in front of that door.  And there he would be kept five, ten, fifteen minutes, as he declared—­though I believe in my heart that the time never exceeded three—­while Richard was putting off the trappings of his work and putting on the trappings of his grandeur.

If people would only have their doors opened to you by such assistance as may come most easily and naturally to the work!  I stood lately for some minutes on a Tuesday afternoon at a gallant portal, and as I waxed impatient a pretty maiden came and opened it.  She was a pretty maiden, though her hands and face and apron told tales of the fire-grates.  “Laws, sir,” she said, “the visitors’ day is Wednesday; and if you would come then, there would be the man in livery!” She took my card with the corner of her apron, and did just as well as the man in livery; but what would have happened to her had her little speech been overheard by her mistress?

Crosbie hated the house in St. John’s Wood, and therefore the coming of the countess was a relief to him.  Portman Square was easily to be reached, and the hospitalities of the countess would not be pressed upon him so strongly as those of the Gazebees.  When he first called he was shown into the great family dining-room, which looked out towards the back of the house.  The front windows were, of course, closed, as the family was not supposed to be in London.  Here he remained in the room for some quarter of an hour, and then the countess descended upon him in all her grandeur.  Perhaps he had never before seen her so grand.  Her dress was very large, and rustled through the broad doorway, as if demanding even a broader passage.  She had on a wonder of a bonnet, and a velvet mantle that was nearly as expansive as her petticoats.  She threw her head a little back as she accosted him, and he instantly perceived that he was enveloped in the fumes of an affectionate but somewhat contemptuous patronage.  In old days he had liked the countess, because her manner to him had always been flattering.  In his intercourse with her he had been able to feel that he gave quite as much as he got, and that the countess was aware of the fact.  In all the circumstances of their