I found him (for example) in the library, sitting under the map of Modern Italy, and quite unaware of any other method of meeting his troubles, except the method of talking about them.

"I have several worthy aspirations, Betteredge; but what am I to do with them now?
I am full of dormant good qualities, if Rachel would only have helped me to bring them out!" He was so eloquent in drawing the picture of his own neglected merits, and so pathetic in lamenting over it when it was done, that I felt quite at my wits' end how to console him, when it suddenly occurred to me that here was a case for the wholesome application of a bit of ROBINSON CRUSOE.

I hobbled out to my own room, and hobbled back with that immortal book.

Nobody in the library! The map of Modern Italy stared at ME; and I stared at the map of Modern Italy.
I tried the drawing-room.

There was his handkerchief on the floor, to prove that he had drifted in.