He was more fortunate in the afternoon. When he went along to Adelaide Crescent, Lady Cunyngham and her daughter were both at home; and it was with a sense of joyous relief--and yet with a touch of disquietude too--that he found himself ascending the soft-carpeted stairs. When he was shown into the drawing-room, he found only one occupant there--it was Honnor Cunyngham herself, who was standing by a big portfolio set on a brass stand, and apparently engaged in arranging some large photographs. She turned and greeted him very pleasantly and without any surprise; she went to two low settles coming out at right angles from the fireplace and sat down, while he took a seat opposite her; if he was rather nervous and bewildered, at finding himself thus suddenly face to face with her and alone with her, she was quite calm and self-possessed. "Mother has just gone up-stairs; she will be here presently," Miss Honnor said. "But what a pity my sisters did not know you were coming down. After church they all went off to visit an old lady, a great friend of theirs, who can't get out-of-doors nowadays; and so I suppose they stayed on so as to keep her company. However, I have no doubt they will be here before long. What a pleasant thing it must be for you," she added, "to be able to run down to Brighton for a day after a week's hard work at the theatre." "Yes," he answered, in a half-bitter kind of fashion. "It is a pleasant thing to get away from the theatre--anywhere. I think I am becoming rather sick of the theatre and all its associations." "Really, Mr. Moore," she said, with a smile, "it is surprising to hear you say so--you of all men." "What comes of it? You play the fool before a lot of idle people, until--until--your nature is subdued to what it works in, I suppose. What service do you do to any human being?--of what use are you in the world?" "Surely you confer a benefit on the public when you provide them with innocent amusement," she ventured to say--she had not considered this subject much, if at all. "But what comes of it? They laugh for an hour or two and go home. It is all gone--like a breath of wind--" "But isn't mere distraction a useful and wholesome thing?" she remonstrated again, "I know a great philosopher who is exceedingly fond of billiards, and very eager about the game too; but he doesn't expect to gain any moral enlightenment from three balls and a bit of stick. Distraction, amusement, is necessary to human beings; we can't always be thinking of the problems of life."