When all was done he put his infinitesimal looking-glass on the floor of his attic, flanked it with two guttering candles, and walked up and down before it in a torment, observing his own demeanour and his coat's, saying 'How d'ye do ?' and 'Good-bye' to an imaginary host, or bending affably to address some phantom lady across the table.
When at last he descended the stairs, he felt as though he were just escaped from a wrestling-match.

He followed Cuningham into the omnibus with nerves all on edge.

He hated the notion, too, of taking an omnibus to go and dine in St.James's Square.

But Cuningham's Scotch thriftiness scouted the proposal of a hansom.
On the way Fenwick suddenly asked his companion whether there was a Lady Findon.

Cuningham, startled by the ignorance of his _protege_, drew out as quickly as he could _la carte du pays_.
Lady Findon, the second wife, fat, despotic, and rich, rather noisy, and something of a character, a political hostess, a good friend, and a still better hater; two sons, silent, good-looking and clever, one in the brewery that provided his mother with her money, the other in the Hussars; two daughters not long 'introduced'-- one pretty--the other bookish and rather plain; so ran the catalogue.
'I believe there is another daughter by the first wife--married--something queer about the husband.