I am rather surprised that the crude hedonism of Beatrice should have appealed to me, for my weaknesses had never really included mere fleshly indulgence. But, as I have said, the girl had the charm of novelty for me. I remember satirically assuring myself that, upon the whole, her frank concentration upon worldly pleasure was more natural and pleasing than Sylvia's rapt concentration upon other kinds of self-ministration. Ours was a period of self-indulgence. Beatrice was, after all, only a little more naive and outspoken than the majority in her thirst for pleasure. And she was quite charming to look upon. Almost the first man to whom I spoke regarding my dismissal from the staff of the _Daily Gazette_ was Clement Blaine. I met him in Fleet Street, and was asked in to his cupboard of an office. "You are a man who knows every one in Fleet Street," I said. "I wish you would keep an eye lifting for a journalistic billet for me." And then I told him that I was leaving the _Daily Gazette_, and spoke of the work I had done, and of my little journalistic experiences at Cambridge. He combed his glossy black beard with the fingers of one hand; a white hand it was, save where cigarettes had browned the first and second fingers; a hand that had never known physical toil, though its owner always addressed "working" men as one of themselves. He wore a fiery red necktie, and a fiery diamond on the little finger of the hand that combed his beard. A self-indulgent life in the city was telling on him, but Clement Blaine was still rather a fine figure of a man, in his coarse, bold way. He had a varnished look, and, dressed for the part, would have made a splendid stage pirate. "It's odd you should have come to me to-day," he said. "Look here!" He handed me a cutting from a daily paper. At Holloway, yesterday afternoon, an inquest was held on the body of a man named Joseph Cartwright, who is said to have been a journalist. This man was found dead upon his bed, fully dressed, on Tuesday morning. The medical evidence showed death to be due to heart failure, and indicated alcoholism as the predisposing cause. A verdict was returned in accordance with the medical evidence. "He was my assistant editor," said Clement Blaine, as I looked up from my perusal of this sorry tale. "Really?" I said. "Yes, a clever fellow; most accomplished journalist, but----" And Mr. Blaine raised his elbow with a significant gesture, by which he suggested the act of drinking. Within the hour I had accepted an engagement as assistant editor of _The Mass_ with the magnificent sum of two pounds a week by way of remuneration. "It's poor pay," said Blaine. "And I only wish I could double it. But that's all it will run to at present, and--well, of course, it counts for something to be working for the cause as directly as we do in _The Mass_."