Nevertheless, there were occasional dinner-parties, and at one of these Dolly first saw Mr. Forde. In deference to a suggestion of Mr. Werner's, who now interested and busied himself not a little with the concerns of his old friend, he had been asked to the house. When he came no one knew exactly what to do with him. A stranger amongst strange people is rarely to be envied his lot; but perhaps the position of strange people when a stranger ventures amongst them is more unenviable still. Mrs. Mortomley felt their modest establishment must seem poor in the eyes of a man who talked so glibly of the fine seats possessed by this alderman and that retired tallow-chandler. Although affably anxious to descend to the position, Mr. Forde lost no opportunity of letting the Mortomleys know Homewood seemed a mere doll's-house in comparison with the mansions to which he was daily invited. He and Mr. Werner had the bulk of the talk to themselves, and it related principally to City incidents and City men, to the fortune left by this merchant and the _fiasco_ made by his neighbour, with other pleasing incidents of a like nature interspersed with political observations that made Dolly yawn frightfully behind her handkerchief. Notwithstanding which pretences of under-rating Homewood and its occupiers, Mr. Forde was impressed by both. The unities of decent society always do impress men who have lived during the whole of their earlier years on the edge of society or below it. After that first visit Mr. Forde came frequently to Homewood, but of this Mrs. Mortomley took little notice until one day when having, for reasons of her own, suggested putting off his proposed visit, Rupert remarked, "I am afraid that would scarcely be a safe move. At any inconvenience to ourselves, we must be civil to him." "Why?" asked Dolly. "Well; for various reasons. If a man gets into Queer Street, he can scarcely afford to quarrel with the people who live there." "Do you mean that Archie is in Queer Street?" Mrs. Mortomley inquired. "In something very like it, at any rate," was the reply. "How does it happen?" "I cannot tell," he answered in all sincerity. "When will he be out of it?" "That is what puzzles me. We ought to have been out of it long ago." Misfortune, like age, comes differently upon different people. There are those whose hair turns white in a single night, and those again to whom grey hairs come almost one by one, and in similar fashion ruin overwhelms some in an hour, whilst others are reduced to beggary by a slow and almost imperceptible process, the beginning and progress of which it seems impossible to trace. The end every one understands, the commencement is usually unintelligible to those who ought to know most about it. In the February of that year in which this story opens, came the first thunderclap heralding very bad weather to come.