placed himself high in all hopes of happiness and riches—­whom he had thrown away from him, and who had again seemed to be almost within his reach—­Lily had so refused him that he knew not how to approach her with a further prayer.  And, had she not refused him, how could he have told her of his load of debt?  As he stood at the corner where the lane runs in Lombard Street, he came for a while to think almost more of Lily than of his rejected bill.  Then, as he thought of both his misfortunes together, he asked himself whether a pistol would not conveniently put an end to them together.

At that moment a loud harsh voice greeted his ear.  ’Hallo, Crosbie, what brings you so far east?  One does not often see you in the City.’  It was the voice of Sir Raffle Buffle, which in former days had been very odious to Crosbie’s ears;—­for Sir Raffle Buffle had once been the presiding genius of the office to which Crosbie still belonged.

‘No, indeed, not very often,’ said Crosbie, smiling.  Who can tell who has not felt it, the pain that goes with the forcing of such smiles?  But Sir Raffle was not an acutely observant person, and did not see that anything was wrong.

‘I suppose you’re doing a little business?’ said Sir Raffle.  ’If a man has kept a trifle of money by him, this certainly is the time for turning it.  You have always been wide awake about such things.’

‘No, indeed,’ said Crosbie.  If he could only make up his mind that he would shoot himself, would it not be a pleasant thing to inflict some condign punishment on this odious man before he left the world?  But Crosbie knew that he was not going to shoot himself, and he knew also that he had no power of inflicting condign punishment on Sir Raffle Buffle.  He could only hate the man, and curse him inwardly.

‘Ah, ha!’ said Sir Raffle.  ’You wouldn’t be here unless you knew where a good thing is to be picked up.  But I must be off.  I’m on the Rocky Mountain Canal Company Directory.  I’m not above taking my two guineas a day.  Good-bye, my boy.  Remember me to old Optimist.’  And so Sir Raffle passed on, leaving Crosbie still standing at the corner of the lane.

What was he to do?  This interruption had at least seemed to drive Lily from his mind, and to send his ideas back to the consideration of his pecuniary difficulties.  He thought of his own bank, a West-End establishment at which he was personally known to many of the clerks, and where he had been heretofore treated, with great consideration.  But of late his balances had been very low, and more than once he had been reminded that he had overdrawn his account.  He knew well that the distinguished firm of Bounce, Bounce, and Bounce would not cash a bill for him or lend him money without security.  He did not even dare to ask them to do so.