Excerpt from The Next of Kin, Vol. 1 of 3: A Novel in Three Volumes

It was one of those days very apt to make an Englishman peevish, idle, unsettled, and splenetic, when he would very likely swear that the rainy season in Abyssinia could not be half so bad to endure as those alternate days of showers and sunshine in his own country.

As the autumn twilight set in, all things looked still more dismal and uninviting, yet, out into those murky, sloppy streets Mr. Maggs must go, for it was long past the usual hour of leaving his office, and he looked oftener, and more impatiently towards the window, wishing the rain would cease for a sufficient time to allow of his walking home without getting wet through.

His occupation appeared to be merely a desultory one for the time being, to wile away the tediousness of waiting.

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