His thoughts were too unpleasant to be dwelt on; everything in his world seemed to have gone awry. So he occupied himself with what seemed to him a particularly uninteresting number of the Spectator . The sun had almost disappeared, and very soon it became too dark to read; no candles having been brought as yet, my lord, very unromantically, went to sleep in his chair. Whether he would have eventually snored is not known, for not more than a quarter of an hour afterwards the butler roused him with the magic words:

“Dinner is served, sir.”

Carstares turned his head lazily.

“What’s that you say, James?”

“Dinner is served, sir,” repeated the man, and held the door wide for him to pass out.

“Faith! I’m glad to hear it!”