She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. It was said, that he received an affront from James, in the shape of a public reprimand, which his pride could not forgive. There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames.
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