seven in the evening
`` No , '' replied Scarsdale . `` You write it and I 'll send it . '' He did not wish any more of his plans to be revealed to Faro Charlie . Jack Carrington , Esquire , Gentleman , sat in his snug little sitting-room , in one of the side streets of Mayfair , shortly before seven in the evening , feeling uncommonly blue . He was , without doubt , in a most unfortunate position . Born and bred a gentleman ; educated to do nothing , yet debarred by lack of family influence from the two professions he might properly have entered , the army and the diplomatic corps ; with not quite enough money to support his position as a bachelor , and no hopes of ever having any more , the outlook , matrimonially at least , was anything but encouraging , and there was a lady -- with whose existence this narrative has no concern -- who , had fortune smiled , might now be Mrs. Carrington : a possibility which had brought our quondam best man almost to the point of determining , according to those false standards which are happily fast passing away from English society , to be no longer a _ gentleman _ , but to go into trade . Such , then , was his condition when the door-bell rang , and a moment later a card was brought to him bearing the name of Lady Scarsdale .