And, when he woke, it was to begin all over again.
Why--_why_ had he been so weak as to yield to Captain Elisha's advice?
Why had he not acted like a sensible, self-respecting man, done what he knew was right, and persisted in his refusal to visit the Warrens?
Why?
Because he was an idiot, of course--a hopeless idiot, who had got exactly what he deserved! Which bit of philosophy did not help make his reflections less bitter.
He went down to breakfast when the bell rang, but his appetite was missing, and he replied only in monosyllables to the remarks addressed to him by his fellow boarders.

Mrs.Hepton, the landlady, noticed the change.
"You not ill, Mr.Pearson, I hope ?" she queried.

"I do hope you haven't got cold, sleeping with your windows wide open, as you say you do.

Fresh air is a good thing, in moderation, but one should be careful.

Don't you think so, Mr.Carson ?" Mr.Carson was a thin little man, a bachelor, who occupied the smallest room on the third story.