would not think he meant anything except kindness. And if he could not
take care of himself, it was a pity! Thus in the course of his reflections
Dick found means to persuade himself that there was nothing culpable in
pursuing the way which was pleasant, which he wanted to pursue; a result
which unfortunately very often follows upon reflection. The best way
in such an emergency is not to reflect, but to turn and fly at once.
But that, he said to himself, not without some complaisance, would be
impulse, which he had just concluded to be a very bad thing. It was
impulse which had got him into the scrape, he must trust to something
more stable to get him out.

In the course of his walking, and, indeed, before these thoughts had
gone very far, he found himself at the corner of Half Moon Street, and
turned along with the simple purpose of seeing which was No. 22. There
were lights in several windows, and he lingered a moment wondering
which might be Chatty's. Then with a stamp of his foot, and a laugh of
utter self-ridicule, which astounded the passing cabmen (for in any
circumstances he was not surely such a confounded sentimental ass as
_that_), he turned on his heel and went straight home without lingering
anywhere. It was hard upon him that he should be such a fool; that he
should not be able to restrain himself from making idiotic advances,
which he could never follow out, and for a mere impulse place himself at
the mercy of fate! But he would not be led by impulse now in turning his
back. It should be reason that should be his guide; reason and
reflection and a calm working out of the problem, how far and no farther
he could with safety go.

And yet if it had been so that he could have availed himself of the
anxiety of his family to get "a nice girl" to take an interest in him!
Where could there be a nicer girl than Chatty? There were prettier girls,
and as for beauty, that was not a thing to be spoken of at all in the
matter. Beauty is rare, and it is often (in Dick's opinion) attended by
qualities not so agreeable. It was often inanimate, he thought, apt to
rest upon its natural laurels, to think it did enough when it consented
to look beautiful. He did not go in, himself, for the sublime. But to
see the light come over Chatty's face as if the sun had suddenly broken
out in the sky; to see the pleased surprise in her eyes as she lifted
them quickly, without any affectation, in all the sweetness of nature.
She was no