Fall of a Great Reputation
As I tramped on I strained my eyes through the dusky atmosphere, and tried to make out the direction described. For some ten minutes I wondered and doubted; at the end of that I saw that my friend was right. We were coming to the great, dreary spaces of fashionable London—more dreary, one must admit, even than the dreary plebeian spaces.
"This is very extraordinary!" said Basil Grant, as we turned into Berkeley Square.
"What is extraordinary?" I asked. "I thought you said it was quite natural."
"I do not wonder," answered Basil, "at his walking through nasty streets; I do not wonder at his going to Berkeley Square. But I do wonder at his going to the house of a very good man."
"What very good man?" I asked, with exasperation.
"The operation of time is a singular one," he said, with his imperturbable irrelevancy. "It is not a true statement of the case to say that I have forgotten my career when I was a judge and a public man. I remember
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