fire of London must have been the finest sight the world ever saw."
"You don't appear to mind very much about your rooms, I must say," said his companion. "If I were looking on at the destruction of my goods and chattels and the roof that protects my head, I don't think I should be able to raise much enthusiasm for the spectacle."
"It will probably take half Fleet Street. What is my wretched little attic in comparison with that?"
"Somehow in the circumstances I don't think I could play the philosopher myself."
"It is all up with the hotel," said Northcote. "It will be into a few of these newspaper offices before long. Conceive a holocaust that places the press of England in danger! Ha, ha, there goes the roof of my room!"
"Why, that is where the fire began! You don't mean to say the fire began in your room?"
"Yes, that is where the fire began."
"No! How did it begin? Were you in it when it started?"
"Yes, I was in it when it started."
"No!"
"I started it myself."
"Did you overturn a lamp? Or did it begin in the chimney?"
"Well, if you must know," said Northcote, "you shall hear the true facts. A lady called upon me last evening, and very kindly stayed the night. But this morning when I wanted to turn her out she refused to go. And further, she showed temper and made herself distinctly objectionable. Therefore I
