ampson, to know something of
it. 'Tis sadly selfish, my dear sir, sadly selfish; and everybody is
struggling to pass his neighbour! No, I can't give you any more cards.
You haven't the king? I play queen, knave, and a ten,--a sadly selfish
world, indeed. And here comes my chocolate!"

The more immediate interest of the cards entirely absorbs the old woman.
The door shuts out her nephew and his cares. Under his hat, he bears
them into the street, and paces the dark town for a while.

"Good God!" he thinks, "what a miserable fellow I am, and what a
spendthrift of my life I have been! I sit silent with George and his
friends. I am not clever and witty as he is. I am only a burthen to
him; and, if I would help him ever so much, don't know how. My dear Aunt
Lambert's kindness never tires, but I begin to be ashamed of trying it.
Why, even Hetty can't help turning on me; and when she tells me I am
idle and should be doing something, ought I to be angry? The rest have
left me. There's my cousins and uncle and my lady my aunt, they have
shown me the cold shoulder this long time. They didn't even ask me to
Norfolk when they went down to the country, and offer me so much as
a day's partridge-shooting. I can't go to Castlewood--after what has
happened; I should break that scoundrel William's bones; and, faith, am
well out of the place altogether."

He laughs a fierce laugh as he recalls his adventures since he has been
in Europe. Money, friends, pleasure, all have passed away, and he feels
the past like a dream. He strolls into White's Chocolate-House, where
the waiters have scarce seen him for a year. The parliament is up.
Gentlemen are away; there is not even any play going on:--not that he
would join it, if there were.

He has but a few pieces in his pocket; George's drawer is open, and he
may take what money he likes thence; but very, very sparingly will he
avail himself of his brother's repeated invitation. He sits and drinks
his glass in moody silence. Two or three officers of the Guards enter
from St. James's. He knew them in former days, and the young men, who
have been already dining and drinking on guard, insist on more drink at
the club. The other battalion of their regiment is at Winchester: it is
going on this great expedition, no one knows whither, which everybody
is talking about. Cursed fate that they do not belong to the other
battalion; and must stay and do duty in London and at Kensington! There
is Webb, who