noon
Mr. Locket lived in the depths of Chelsea , in a little panelled , amiable house , and Baron took his way homeward along the King 's Road . There was a new amusement for him , a fresher bustle , in a London walk in the morning ; these were hours that he habitually spent at his table , in the awkward attitude engendered by the poor piece of furniture , one of the rickety features of Mrs. Bundy 's second floor , which had to serve as his altar of literary sacrifice . If by exception he went out when the day was young he noticed that life seemed younger with it ; there were livelier industries to profit by and shop-girls , often rosy , to look at ; a different air was in the streets and a chaff of traffic for the observer of manners to catch . Above all , it was the time when poor Baron made his purchases , which were wholly of the wandering mind ; his extravagances , for some mysterious reason , were all matutinal , and he had a foreknowledge that if ever he should ruin himself it would be well before noon . He felt lavish this morning , on the strength of what the Promiscuous would do for him ; he had lost sight for the moment of what he should have to do for the Promiscuous . Before the old bookshops and printshops , the crowded panes of the curiosity-mongers and the desirable exhibitions of mahogany `` done up , '' he used , by an innocent process , to commit luxurious follies . He refurnished Mrs. Bundy with a freedom that cost her nothing , and lost himself in pictures of a transfigured second floor .