CHAPTER XX.
I SPEAK WITH THE CELEBRATED MR. SNARK.
On arriving at our town residence in Bloomsbury
it was easy to ascertain that the family of
Long Acre had fallen on an evil time. The troops
of friends that formerly were so willing to receive
and to be received now kept aloof, and avoided me
in every way possible, as though I were a very leper.
At first I felt disposed to accept this calmly, and in
an amused but not uncharitable spirit. I persuaded
myself that I could surely dispense with the favour
of these shallow persons. But one week of it corrected
this impression. For I soon discovered that
flattery, admiration, and wholesale triumphs in the
social sphere were indispensable to a life in town.
Nature, in endowing me with a smile that, as young
Anthony once remarked, was "sufficient to sweeten
sour cream," and a beauty of person that provoked
more odes than a successful campaign, also cursed
me with a craving for its appreciation. Therefore
in a day or two, when the novelty was outworn, disfavour
and neglect became terribly irksome to support.
And however proud a face I might put upon
the matter when I went abroad, my pain was not
thereby made the softer.
