'Certainly it is my wish; and I also wish you to do it so diplomatically that you will conceal my name from him more successfully than you concealed my cousin's name from me this afternoon.' 'I am afraid I am very awkward,' said John, blushing. 'No; you are very honest, that's all. You are not accomplished in the art of telling what is not true. Now, this is where we live; will you come in?' 'Thank you, no; I'm afraid not,' said John. 'I must really be going now.' 'Let the coachman take you to your station.' 'No, no, it is not worth the trouble; it is only a step from here.' 'It is no trouble. Which is your station--South Kensington?' 'Yes.' 'Very well. Drive to South Kensington Station, Parker,' she said to the coachman; and then, running up the steps, she waved her hand in good-bye, as the carriage turned. And so John Kenyon, feeling abashed at his own poverty, was driven in this gorgeous equipage to the Underground Railway station, where he took the train for the City. As he stepped from the carriage at South Kensington, young Mr. Longworth came out of the station on his way home, and was simply dumfounded to see Kenyon in the Longworths' carriage. John passed him without noticing who he was, and just as the coachman was going to start again, Longworth said to him: 'Parker, have you been picking up fares in the street?' 'Oh no, sir,' replied the respectable Parker; 'the young gentleman as just left us came from the City with Miss Longworth.' 'Did he, indeed? Where did you pick him up, Parker?' 'We picked him up in Cheapside, sir.' 'Ah, indeed;' and with that, muttering some imprecations on the cheek of Kenyon, he stepped into the carriage and drove home. CHAPTER XVIII. George Wentworth was a very much better man than John Kenyon to undertake the commercial task they hoped to accomplish. Wentworth had mixed with men, and was not afraid of them. Although he had suffered keenly from the little episode on the steamer, and although at that trying time he appeared to but poor advantage so far as an exhibition of courage was concerned, the reason was largely because the blow had been dealt him by a woman, and not by a man. If one of Wentworth's fellow-men so far forgot himself as to make an insulting or cutting remark to him, Wentworth merely shrugged his shoulders and thought no more about it. On the other hand, notwithstanding his somewhat cold and calm exterior, John Kenyon was as sensitive as a child, and a rebuff such as he received from the Longworths was enough to depress him for a week. He had been a student all his life, and had not yet learnt the valuable lesson of knowing how to look at men's actions with an eye to proportion. Wentworth said to himself that nobody's opinion amounted to very much, but Kenyon knew too little of his fellows to have arrived at this comforting conclusion.