Chapter III

MERTON DENSHER, who passed the best
hours of each night at the office of his news
paper, had at times, during the day, to make up for
it, a sense, or at least an appearance, of leisure, in
accordance with which he was not infrequently to
be met, in different parts of the town, at moments
when men of business are hidden from the public
eye. More than once, during the present winter's
end, he had deviated, toward three o'clock, or tow
ard four, into Kensington Gardens, where he might
for a while, on each occasion, have been observed
to demean himself as a person with nothing to do.
He made his way indeed, for the most part, with
a certain directness, over to the north side; but
once that ground was reached his behaviour was
noticeably wanting in point. He moved seemingly
at random from alley to alley; he stopped for no
reason and remained idly agaze; he sat down in
a chair and then changed to a bench; after which
he walked about again, only again to repeat both
the vagueness and the vivacity. Distinctly, he was
a man either with nothing at all to do or with ever
so much to think about; and it was not to be de-

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v?