about midday
But for Armstrong he might have been a free man -- free of his debts , free of his frauds , clear in his children 's eyes , able to hold up his head to all the world . As it was , everything seemed to conspire with his enemy to pinion him and hold him fast , a prey to the Nemesis that was on its way ! What would he not give to have this stumbling-block out of the path , and feel himself free to breathe and hope once more ? In such a mood he spent the morning ; and about midday , shaking off his visitor , wandered out into the park for fresh air and space to think . As he paced , there returned to him memories of old half-forgotten days , of faces that once looked into his trustfully , voices that once made his heart glad , children that once ran to welcome him ; visions of vanished hopes , ambitions , ideals . Where were they all now ? Who believed in him to-day ?