He met Valentine sometimes
in the course of his peregrinations in the neighbourhood of the British
Museum, and the greeting between the two men was sufficiently cordial;
but Mr. Hawkehurst did not invite his old employer to Charlottenburgh,
and George was able to comprehend that to that household no one bearing
the name of Sheldon could be a welcome visitor.
He jogged on comfortably enough in his own way; living in his chambers,
and consorting with a few chosen friends and kindred spirits of the
jolly-good-fellow class, whom he met at an old-established tavern in the
west-central district, and in whose society, and the society of the
subscription-ground in the Farringdon Road, he found the _summum bonum_
in the way of social intercourse. He did a little speculation upon the
turf, and discounted the bills of needy bookmakers, or bought up their
bad debts, and thereby gained introductions to the noble patrons of the
humble "scums," and pushed his business into new grooves. He had no idea
that such an existence was in any way ignoble; nay, indeed, when he had
paid his rent, and his clerk, and his laundress, and his tavern score,
and "stood glasses round" amongst his friends, he lighted his cigar, and
thrust his hands into the depths of his pockets, and paced the flags of
Holborn happy in the belief that he had performed the whole duty of man.
"There are men whose business obliges them to keep up an establishment,
and go to church twice a day, and all that kind of thing," he said; "and
I dare say they find it pay.
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