“Now, Mr. Blancove, you must change them notions o’ me.  I don’t say I shouldn’t be richer if I’d got what’s owing to me.”

“You’d have to be protected; you’d be Bullion on two legs,” said Algernon, always shrewd in detecting a weakness.  “You’d have to go about with sentries on each side, and sleep in an iron safe!”

The end of the interview was a visit to the public-house, and the transferring of another legal instrument from Algernon to Anthony.  The latter departed moaning over his five pounds ten shillings in paper; the former rejoicing at his five pounds in gold.  That day was Saturday.  On Monday, only a few shillings of the five pounds remained; but they were sufficient to command a cab, and, if modesty in dining was among the prescriptions for the day, a dinner.  Algernon was driven to the West.

He remembered when he had plunged in the midst of the fashionable whirlpool, having felt reckless there formerly, but he had become remarkably sedate when he stepped along the walks.  A certain equipage, or horse, was to his taste, and once he would have said:  “That’s the thing for me;” being penniless.  Now, on the contrary, he reckoned the possible cost, grudgingly, saying “Eh?” to himself, and responding “No,” faintly, and then more positively, “Won’t do.”

He was by no means acting as one on a footing of equality with the people he beholds.  A man who is ready to wager a thousand pounds that no other man present has that amount in his pocket, can hardly feel unequal to his company.

Charming ladies on horseback cantered past.  “Let them go,” he thought.  Yesterday, the sight of one would have set him dreaming on grand alliances.  When you can afford to be a bachelor, the case is otherwise.  Presently, who should ride by but Mrs. Lovell!  She was talking more earnestly than was becoming, to that easy-mannered dark-eyed fellow; the man who had made him savage by entering the opera-box.

“Poor old Ned!” said Algernon; “I must put him on his guard.”  But, even the lifting of a finger—­a hint on paper—­would bring Edward over from Paris, as he knew; and that was not in his scheme; so he only determined to write to his cousin.

A flood of evening gold lay over the Western park.

“The glory of this place,” Algernon said to himself, “is, that you’re sure of meeting none but gentlemen here;” and he contrasted it with Epsom Downs.

A superstitious horror seized him when, casting his eyes ahead, he perceived Sedgett among the tasteful groups—­as discordant a figure as could well be seen, and clumsily aware of it, for he could neither step nor look like a man at ease.  Algernon swung round and retraced his way; but Sedgett had long sight.

“I’d heard of London”—­Algernon soon had the hated voice in his ears,—­“and I’ve bin up to London b’fore; I came here to have a wink at the fash’nables—­hang me, if ever I see such a scrumptious lot.  It’s worth a walk up and down for a hour or more.  D’ you come heer often, sir?”