Well, they went to the big foreign restaurant; and had a small table all to themselves, in the midst of the glare, and the heat, and the indiscriminate Babel of tongues. And, under the guidance of Mr. Brand, they adventured upon numerous articles of food which were more varied in there names than in their flavor; and they tasted some of the compounds, reeking of iris-root, that the Neapolitans call wine, until they fell back on a flask of Chianti, and were content; and they regarded their neighbors, and were regarded in turn. In the midst of it all, Mr. Lind, who had been somewhat preoccupied, said suddenly. "Natalie, can you start with me for Leipsic to-morrow afternoon?" She was as prompt as a soldier. "Yes, papa. Shall I take Anneli or not?" "You may if you like." After that George Brand seemed to take very little interest in this heterogeneous banquet: he stared absently at the foreign-looking people, at the hurrying waiters, at the stout lady behind the bar. Even when Mr. Lind told his daughter that her black satin mob-cap, with its wonderful intertwistings of Venetian chain, looked very striking in a mirror opposite, and when Lord Evelyn eagerly gave his friend the credit of having selected that birthday gift, he did not seem to pay much heed. When, after all was over, and he had wished Natalie "_Bon voyage_" at the door of the brougham, Lord Evelyn said to him, "Come along to Clarges Street now and smoke a cigar." "No, thanks!" he said. "I think I will stroll down to my rooms now." "What is the matter with you, Brand? You have been looking very glum." "Well, I have been thinking that London is a depressing sort of a place for a man to live in who does not know many people. It is very big, and very empty. I don't think I shall be able to stand it much longer." CHAPTER VII. IN SOLITUDE. A blustering, cold morning in March; the skies lowering, the wind increasing, and heavy showers being driven up from time to time from the black and threatening south-west. This was strange weather to make a man think of going to the seaside; and of all places at the seaside to Dover, and of all places in Dover to the Lord Warden Hotel, which was sure to be filled with fear-stricken foreigners, waiting for the sea to calm. Waters, as he packed the small portmanteau, could not at all understand this freak on the part of his master. "If Lord Evelyn calls, sir," he said at the station, "when shall I say you will be back?" "In a few days, perhaps. I don't know." He had a compartment to himself; and away the train went through the wet and dismal and foggy country, with the rain pouring down the panes of the carriage. The dismal prospect outside, however, did not matter much to this solitary traveller. He turned his back to the window, and read all the way down.