y. That something, let it be what it might, was not lost
upon Ralph.

Any further doubt on his part was quite out of the question. If his
mind had not been made up before it must, at least, be made up now.
He had twice borrowed Mr. Neefit's money, and on this latter occasion
had taken it on the express understanding that he was to propose to
Mr. Neefit's daughter. And then, in this way, and in this way only,
he could throw over his uncle and save the property. As soon as he
had paid the money to Moggs, he went to his room and dressed himself
for the occasion. As he arranged his dress with some small signs
of an intention to be externally smart, he told himself that it
signified nothing at all, that the girl was only a breeches-maker's
daughter, and that there was hardly a need that he should take a new
pair of gloves for such an occasion as this. In that he was probably
right. An old pair of gloves would have done just as well, though
Polly did like young men to look smart.

He went out in a hansom of course. A man does not become economical
because he is embarrassed. And as for embarrassment, he need not
trouble himself with any further feelings on that score. When once
he should be the promised husband of Polly Neefit, he would have no
scruple about the breeches-maker's money. Why should he, when he did
the thing with the very view of getting it? They couldn't expect him
to be married till next spring at the earliest, and he would take
another winter out of himself at the Moonbeam. As the sacrifice
was to be made he might as well enjoy all that would come of the
sacrifice. Then as he sat in the cab he took to thinking whether,
after any fashion at all, he did love Polly Neefit. And from that
he got to thinking,--not of poor Clary,--but of Mary Bonner. If his
uncle could at once be translated to his fitting place among the
immortals, oh,--what a life might be his! But his uncle was still
mortal, and,--after all,--Polly Neefit was a very jolly girl.

When he got to the house he asked boldly for Miss Neefit. He had told
himself that no repulse could be injurious to him. If Mrs. Neefit
were to refuse him admission into the house, the breeches-maker
would be obliged to own that he had done his best. But there was no
repulse. In two minutes he found himself in the parlour, with Polly
standing up to receive him. "Dear me, Mr. Newton; how odd! You might
have come weeks running before you'd find me here and mother out.
She