Thus he fulfilled the inscrutable laws of his great class--of human nature itself--when he reflected, with a sense of comfort, that Bosinney would be easy to deal with in money matters. While he elbowed his way on, his eyes, which he usually kept fixed on the ground before his feet, were attracted upwards by the dome of St. Paul's. It had a peculiar fascination for him, that old dome, and not once, but twice or three times a week, would he halt in his daily pilgrimage to enter beneath and stop in the side aisles for five or ten minutes, scrutinizing the names and epitaphs on the monuments. The attraction for him of this great church was inexplicable, unless it enabled him to concentrate his thoughts on the business of the day. If any affair of particular moment, or demanding peculiar acuteness, was weighing on his mind, he invariably went in, to wander with mouse-like attention from epitaph to epitaph. Then retiring in the same noiseless way, he would hold steadily on up Cheapside, a thought more of dogged purpose in his gait, as though he had seen something which he had made up his mind to buy. He went in this morning, but, instead of stealing from monument to monument, turned his eyes upwards to the columns and spacings of the walls, and remained motionless. His uplifted face, with the awed and wistful look which faces take on themselves in church, was whitened to a chalky hue in the vast building. His gloved hands were clasped in front over the handle of his umbrella. He lifted them. Some sacred inspiration perhaps had come to him. 'Yes,' he thought, 'I must have room to hang my pictures. That evening, on his return from the City, he called at Bosinney's office. He found the architect in his shirt-sleeves, smoking a pipe, and ruling off lines on a plan. Soames refused a drink, and came at once to the point. "If you've nothing better to do on Sunday, come down with me to Robin Hill, and give me your opinion on a building site." "Are you going to build?" "Perhaps," said Soames; "but don't speak of it. I just want your opinion." "Quite so," said the architect. Soames peered about the room. "You're rather high up here," he remarked. Any information he could gather about the nature and scope of Bosinney's business would be all to the good. "It does well enough for me so far," answered the architect. "You're accustomed to the swells." He knocked out his pipe, but replaced it empty between his teeth; it assisted him perhaps to carry on the conversation. Soames noted a hollow in each cheek, made as it were by suction. "What do you pay for an office like this?" said he. "Fifty too much," replied Bosinney. This answer impressed Soames favourably. "I suppose it is dear," he said. "I'll call for you--on Sunday about eleven." The following Sunday therefore he called for Bosinney in a hansom, and drove him to the station. On arriving at Robin Hill, they found no cab, and started to walk the mile and a half to the site.