It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. ’ ‘Pah! Do you think I will run away? Do not be so foolish, and go and fetch him this instant. Your speaking of the trial brings the whole scene to my mind.
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