I think a small one, when you are sitting by yourself, is more cozy and comfortable." Finally two rooms were taken in Villiers Street; they were of moderate size and handsomely furnished: the last tenant had fitted them out for himself, but had lived to enjoy them only three months, having at the end of that time been killed in a duel over a quarrel at cards.
"Well, I think you are in luck, Mark; you might look through a good many streets before you would find rooms so fashionably furnished as these.

I see he went in for driving; that is evident from these engravings on the walls." "They are common, gaudy looking things," Mark said, "and quite out of character with the furniture." "Not at all, as times go, Mark; it is quite the thing for a man to have prints showing his tastes, riding or driving, shooting or coaching, or the ring.

If you don't like them you can take them down, or, what will be better, take them out of their frames and put some of the champions past and present up there instead." "I will see about it," Mark said with a laugh.

"I may turn out a complete failure." "There is no fear of that, Mark; and as the ring is all the fashion now, I can assure you it would be considered in good taste, though I own that in point of art most of these things leave a good deal to be desired.
Now that that important thing is settled, suppose you come and lunch with me in Covent Garden?
I don't belong to a club yet, though I have got my name down at a couple of them, but as far as I can see they are slow sort of places unless you know a lot of people.

The coffee houses are much more amusing; you see people of all sorts there--fellows like myself, who have no clubs to go to; country gentlemen up for a week; a few writers, who, by the way, are not the best customers of these places; men whom nobody knows, and men whom everybody knows.