His habits were vigorous. Rising very early, he walked across the
Park, and had a swim in the Serpentine. The hours of the solid day
he spent, for the most part, in study at the British Museum. Then,
if he had no engagement, he generally got by train well out of town,
and walked in sweet air until nightfall; or, if weather were bad, he
granted himself the luxury of horse-hire, and rode--rode, teeth
set against wind and rain. This earned him sleep--his daily prayer
to the gods.
At the date appointed, he went in search of Mrs. Borisoff, who
welcomed him cordially. Her first inquiry was whether he had got the
Castle.
"I have got it," Piers replied, and entered into particulars. They
talked about it like children anticipating a holiday. Mrs. Borisoff
then questioned him about his doings since he had been in England.
On his mentioning a certain great lady, a Russian, with whom he was
to dine next week, his friend replied with a laugh, which she
refused to explain.
"When can you spend an evening here? I don't mean a dinner. I'll
give you something to eat, but it doesn't count; you come to talk,
as I know you can, though you didn't let me suspect it at
Petersburg. I shall have one or two others, old chums, not
respectable people. Name your own day."
When the evening came, Piers entered Mrs. Borisoff's drawing-room
with trepidation. He glanced at the guest who had already arrived--
a lady unknown to him.
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