No one took a liking for me.

Gay, noisy, chattering fellows that they were, they passed me by for a "dull and muddy-pated rogue;" voted me uncompanionable when I was only shy; and, doubtless, quoted me to each other as a rare specimen of the silent Englishman.

I lived, too, quite out of the students' colony.

To me the _Quartier Latin_ (except as I went to and fro between the Hotel Dieu and the Ecole de Medicine) was a land unknown; and the student's life--that wonderful _Vie de Boheme_ which furnishes forth half the fiction of the Paris press--a condition of being, about which I had never even heard.

What wonder, then, that I never arrived at Dr.Cheron's door five minutes behind time, never missed a lecture, never forgot an appointment?
What wonder that, after dropping moodily into one or two of the theatres, I settled down quite quietly in my lodgings; gave up my days to study; sauntered about the lighted alleys of the Champs Elysees in the sweet spring evenings, and, going home betimes, spent an hour or two with my books, and kept almost as early hours as in my father's house at Saxonholme?
After I had been living thus for rather longer than three weeks, I made up my mind one Sunday morning to call at Dalrymple's rooms, and inquire if he had yet arrived in Paris.