TimeboundComing Winter, 2018!
London, November 21, 1848
The letter arrived on a day when nothing much else was occupying Maxwell’s attention—no evening entertainment to prepare for, no headache from a previous evening’s entertainment to recover from, no tailor appointments, nothing but a visit to a boxing salon or a drive in the park to occupy a gentleman of independent means until the gaming-halls opened.
Or the paying of calls, but Maxwell avoided those whenever he could. To the oft-stated envy of his friends, he had no mother or sister—or aunt, any longer—to compel him to so much as make a pretense of interest in the Season’s young ladies. Most of Maxwell’s set stood upon the threshold of thirty, an age when youthful foibles tended to prompt exasperation rather than indulgence on the
