Mr Coventry went up to town with Mr Gainsford. When the young gentleman returned that night to Brighton, he was quite a man of means. On the return journey he just got into the station as the train was starting. He made a dash at the first carriage he could reach. He was settling himself in the corner, and the train was rapidly quickening, when a voice saluted him. "Mr Coventry!" He turned. At the other end of the compartment was Mrs Murphy. "How nice! I was just thinking that I was going to have the carriage all to myself, and you know that I am not fond of my own society." At that moment, Mr Coventry could not have even hinted that he was fond of hers. The lady went on--her volubility was famous,-- "I have been dabbling on the Stock Exchange." Mr Coventry did not heed her. He was reflecting that the train did not stop till it reached its journey's end, and how about a smoke on the way? Her next words, however, caused him to prick up his ears. "I have done wonderfully well. In fact, I have made what to some, less fortunately circumstanced than myself, would be quite a fortune. I have been buying Ceruleans. Do you know what Ceruleans are?" Did he? Didn't he? "Ceruleans! Then--it was you--" He stopped, petrified. The lady seemed amused. "It was I what?" Mr Coventry took out a well-stuffed pocketbook. "Mrs Murphy, allow me to return you these." A broad smile was upon the lady's face as she took what the gentleman gave her; but when she perceived what it was she held, the broad smile vanished. "What is it you are returning me? I was not aware--why, they're bank-notes for a thousand pounds each! Mr Coventry! What do you mean?" The expression of her face, the tone of her voice, were alike expressive of the most unequivocal amazement. But, disregarding these signs, Mr Coventry pursued a line of his own. "It was very good of you to send them me--though I hardly realise what it was which could have caused you to suppose that I was a fit subject for your charity. At the same time, I hope it is scarcely necessary for me to point out that it is quite impossible for me to take advantage of your generosity." "Mr Coventry! What on earth do you mean?" The lady's manner was altogether unmistakable, but Mr Coventry rushed at his fences. "I can only say that I hope that you will find a more worthy object of what I cannot but call your eccentric liberality." Mrs Murphy, as she sat, bank-notes in hand, endeavouring to grasp the gentleman's meaning, would not have made a bad study for a comic artist. "Mr Coventry, will you be so good as to take back your property?" The lady held out the notes. The gentleman waved them from him. "My property! I presume you mean your property?" "Mr Coventry, what do you mean by giving me these bank-notes?" "Rather, Mrs Murphy, I think I am entitled to ask what you meant by giving them to me?" "Pray, Mr Coventry, are you mad?" "I can only presume that you thought I was mad."