epressing influence of
Mrs. Barker, it became a dirge, incredibly painful to the ear. This even
the whistler recognized after a few moments, and with a laugh at himself
and his misfortunes he seized his hat and went out.

He was by no means clear as to his immediate intentions. Save that his
urgent need was money he had no definite idea or plan. How to compass
the few pounds necessary to discharge his debt and make sure of a roof
was at present beyond his wit, seeing that the situations for men like
him are not picked up in a moment. He had been expensively educated at a
public school and Oxford, and had a bowing acquaintance with the
classics and a tolerable knowledge of law. For three years after taking
his degree he had led a pleasant life, eating dinners, reading law and
writing. By his pen he had made some sixty pounds a year; by the
law--nothing. His father had given him an allowance while he lived, but
eighteen months previously his business had failed and the consequent
worry had driven him into the grave. His wife had died in giving Lionel
birth. After his father's death Lionel perforce had put forth more
strenuous efforts. He had even written a novel and sold it for thirty
pounds. One or two plays lay in his desk or managers' muniment-chests,
and a number of pot-boilers were soliciting the favorable consideration
of callous editors. It had been a precarious though interesting
existence, but he had kept his head above water until the last few
weeks. Now he was standing on the curb in the Strand, wondering amiably
what he should do.

"My best chance," he thought, watching the stream of traffic that never
failed to fascinate, "would be to write a loathsome article, topical,
snappy and bright, and try to sell it for spot cash. I do not think it
would be much good studying the advertisements and applying for a post
as clerk or secretary. I hate the notion of being a clerk.... There is
envelope-addressing, I believe, but I write a villainous hand ... nor do
I care to call upon my friends and expose my unhappy condition...."
(Since his father's death Lionel had naturally given up his old way of
life and dropped out of his usual _milieu_.) ... "No; I think the
loathsome article is clearly indicated. What shall I write about? 'How
It Feels to be Out in the Streets?'... 'The Psychology of
Landladies.'... 'At a Loose End--A Curbstone Study.'... How odd that I
am desperately in need of money and hate the thought of sitti