TotheHouseMrHardingwent，andlefthisnote，notfindingSirAbrahamthere。Headdedamostpiteousentreatythathemightbefavouredwithananswerthatevening，forwhichhewouldreturn。HethenjourneyedbacksadlytotheChapterCoffeeHouse，digestinghisgreatthoughts，asbesthemight，inaclatteringomnibus，wedgedinbetweenawetoldladyandajourneymanglazierreturningfromhisworkwithhistoolsinhislap。Inmelancholysolitudehediscussedhismuttonchopandpintofport。Whatisthereinthisworldmoremelancholythansuchadinner？Adinner，thougheatenalone，inacountryhotelmaybeworthyofsomeenergy；thewaiter，ifyouareknown，willmakemuchofyou；thelandlordwillmakeyouabowandperhapsputthefishonthetable；
ifyouringyouareattendedto，andthereissomelifeaboutit。
AdinnerataLondoneating-houseisalsolivelyenough，ifithavenootherattraction。Thereisplentyofnoiseandstiraboutit，andtherapidwhirlofvoicesandrattleofdishesdispersessadness。Butasolitarydinnerinanold，respectable，sombre，solidLondoninn，wherenothingmakesanynoisebuttheoldwaiter’screakingshoes；whereoneplateslowlygoesandanotherslowlycomeswithoutasound；wherethetwoorthreeguestswouldassoonthinkofknockingeachotherdownasofspeaking；wheretheservantswhisper，andthewholehouseholdisdisturbedifanorderbegivenabovethevoice——
whatcanbemoremelancholythanamuttonchopandapintofportinsuchaplace？
HavinggonethroughthisMrHardinggotintoanotheromnibus，andagainreturnedtotheHouse。Yes，SirAbrahamwasthere，andwasthatmomentonhislegs，fightingeagerlyforthehundredandseventhclauseoftheConventCustodyBill。MrHarding’snotehadbeendeliveredtohim；andifMrHardingwouldwaitsometwoorthreehours，SirAbrahamcouldbeaskedwhethertherewasanyanswer。TheHousewasnotfull，andperhapsMrHardingmightgetadmittanceintotheStrangers’Gallery，whichadmission，withthehelpoffiveshillings，MrHardingwasabletoeffect。