Nor did he pay much attention to his breakfast when it was put on the
table, for there were newspapers to be opened and glanced
through--country journals, most of them, with marked paragraphs
conveying the most unexpected, and even startling, intelligence
regarding himself, his occupations, and forthcoming engagements. Then
there were the book packets and the rolls of music to be examined; but
by this time he had lit an after-breakfast cigarette, and was proceeding
with something of indifference. Occasionally he strolled about the room,
or went to the window and looked down into the roaring highway of
Piccadilly, or across to the sunny foliage and pale-blue mists of the
Green Park. And then, in the midst of his vague meditations, the
following note was brought to him; it had been delivered by hand:

"MY DEAR MR. MOORE,--I do so _awfully_ want to see you,
about a matter of _urgent importance_. Do be good-natured
and come and lunch with us--any time before half-past two, if
possible. It will be _so_ kind of you. I hope the _morning
performance_ has done you no harm.

Yours, sincerely, ADELA CUNYNGHAM."

Well, luncheon was not much in his way, for he usually dined at five;
nevertheless, Lady Adela was an especial friend of his and had been very
kind to him, and here was some serious business. So he hurried through
what correspondence was absolutely necessary; he sent word to Green's
stables that he should not ride that morning; he walked round to a
certain gymnasium and had three quarters of an hour with the
fencing-master (this was an appointment which he invariably held
sacred); on his way back to his rooms he called in at Solomon's for a
buttonhole; and then, having got home and made certain alterations in