The sun shining in through the open window awoke Harry, when he fancied he might have been asleep about a quarter of an hour; on referring to his watch, however, he found it was halfpast six, and as the train by which Arthur Hazlehurst was expected would arrive at twenty minutes past seven, and it was a good half-hour’s walk to the station, he rose and began dressing. As his thoughts recurred to the events of the previous evening, all his cares and anxieties came back upon him with redoubled force, and he felt more thoroughly out of sorts and unhappy than he ever remembered to have done since he had come to man’s estate. When the operation of shaving obliged him to look in the glass, he was surprised, and if the truth must be told, rather alarmed also, as he caught sight of the expression of his features. “What a hang-dog, miserable brute I look like!” he muttered to himself; “it strikes me I drank more wine than is good for one last night--that comes of old Hazlehurst bringing out Burgundy after everybody had had enough. The old boy must have been frightfully screwed himself, or he would never have got so cantankerous with me about nothing--I hate a man who grows quarrelsome over his liquor! Heigho! I feel shockingly seedy and down in the mouth, What the deuce am I to say to Arthur!--how on earth am I to set things right again with the old man! I wonder whether he will be stupid enough to expect me to make an apology? I wouldn’t mind doing it to an old codger like that, but ’pon my word I should not know what to say--I’ve nothing to apologise about that I can see. I hope Arthur won’t be angry, or worse still, unhappy about Alice--poor, dear Alice: if she comes down to breakfast looking miserable, I shall never be able to stand it! I’d better not look at her at all--that will be the only plan: I’ll be off before luncheon. When I get home, all by myself, and have nothing to do but sit and think, I shall have a pleasant life of it! Well, I certainly _have_ gone and done it this time handsomely--rather!”