As for Frank Greystock himself, though he had quite made up his mind about
Lizzie Eustace, he was still in doubt about the other girl. At the present
moment he was making over two thousand pounds a year, and yet was more in
debt now than he had been a year ago. When he attempted to look at his
affairs, he could not even remember what had become of his money. He did
not gamble. He had no little yacht, costing him about six hundred a year.
He kept one horse in London, and one only. He had no house. And when he
could spare time from his work, he was generally entertained at the houses
of his friends. And yet from day to day his condition seemed to become
worse and worse. It was true that he never thought of half-a-sovereign;
that in calling for wine at his club he was never influenced by the cost;
that it seemed to him quite rational to keep a cab waiting for him half
the day, that in going or coming he never calculated expense, that in
giving an order to a tailor he never dreamed of anything beyond his own
comfort. Nevertheless, when he recounted with pride his great economies,
reminding himself that he, a successful man, with a large income and no
family, kept neither hunters, nor yacht, nor moor, and that he did not
gamble, he did think it very hard that he should be embarrassed.
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