he spoke, to deposit his hat
also in the rack. He noted with a kind of chagrin that his companion's
was an ordinary low black bowler. "I can tell you, I SHALL be glad of
the change. I would have bought the tickets," he went on, giving words
at random to the thought which he found fixed on the surface of his
mind, "if I'd only known what our station was."

Plowden waved his hand, and the gesture seemed to dismiss the subject.
He took a cigar case from his pocket, and offered it to Thorpe.

"It was lucky, my not missing the train altogether," he said, as they
lighted their cigars. "I was up late last night--turned out late this
morning, been late all day, somehow--couldn't catch up with the clock
for the life of me. Your statement to me last night--you know it rather
upset me."

The other smiled. "Well, I guess I know something about that feeling
myself. Why, I've been buzzing about today like a hen with her head cut
off. But it's fun, though, aint it, eh? Just to happen to remember every
once in a while, you know, that it's all true! But of course it means a
thousand times more to me than it does to you."

The train had come to a stop inside the gloomy, domed cavern of Cannon
Street. Many men in silk hats crowded to and fro on the platform, and a
number of them shook the handle of the locked door. There was an effect
of curses in the sound of their remarks which came through the closed
window. Mr. Thorpe could not quite restrain the impulse to grin at them.

"Ah, that's where you mistake," said Plowden, contemplating the mouthful
of smoke he slowly blew forth. "My dear man, you can't imagine anybody
to whom it would mean more than it does to me--I hope none of those
fellows have a key. They're an awful bore on this train. I almost
never go by it, for that reason. Ah, thank God we're off!--But as I was
saying, this thing makes a greater difference to me than you can think
of. I couldn't sleep last night--I give you my word--the thing upset me
so. I take it you--you have never had much money before; that is, you
know from experience what poverty is?"

Thorpe nodded with eloquent gravity.

"Well--but you"--the other began, and then paused. "What I mean is,"
he resumed, "you were never, at any rate, responsible to anybody but
yourself. If you had only a sovereign a day, or a sovereign a week, for
that matter, you could accommodate yourself to the requirements of
the situation. I don't mean that you would enjoy it any