"My dear, the most important business——" said Mr. Anerley, gravely. "I don’t care," said Dove. "If you two people are going up to amuse yourselves in London, you must take me. Else stay at home." "But how can you go?" said Will. "We have now barely time to catch the train." "Go by the ten-o’clock train," said Dove, resolutely, "and I shall be dressed by then. Or the walnuts, if you like." "Of the two evils, I prefer to take you," said Will. "So run and get your things ready; and we shall take you to the theatre to-night." "My boy," said his father, when she was gone, "look at the additional expense——" "In for a penny, in for a pound, father," said Will. "I shall allow my finances to suffer for the stall-tickets; and you, having just been ruined, ought to be in a position to give us a very nice dinner. People won’t believe you have lost your money unless you double your expenditure and scatter money about as freely as dust." "You both look as if I had thrust myself on you!" said Dove, reproachfully, as they all got into the waggonette and drove off. "But I forgive you, as you’re going to take me to the theatre. Shall I tell you which, Will? Take me to see Miss Brunel, won’t you?" She looked into his face for a moment; but there was evidently no covert intention in her words. From Charing Cross Station they drove to the Langham Hotel. Dove said she was not afraid to spend an hour or so (under the shelter of a thick veil) in looking at the Regent-street and Oxford-street shops, while the gentlemen were gone into the city. At the expiry of that time she was to return to the hotel and wait for them. They then took a Hansom and drove to Mr. Anerley’s solicitor. "And there," said Mr. Anerley, on the way, "as if we were not sufficiently penniless, Hubbard’s brougham and a pair of his horses are coming over to-morrow." "Did you buy them?" "Yes." "Why?" "For Dove. I was afraid of her driving in an open vehicle during the winter, as she has been rather delicate all the time you were away. I had calculated on selling the waggonette and Oscar; and now I have the whole lot on my hands." "How much have you promised him for them?" "200*l*. I hope he’ll let me withdraw from the bargain." "He won’t. I know the Count very well," said the young man. "He is a good fellow in his way, but he wants credit for his goodness. He’ll stick to this bargain, because he thinks it advantageous to himself; and _then_ he will, with the greatest freedom, lend you the 200*l.*, or a larger sum, if you require it. Nor will he lend you the money at interest; but he will let you know what interest he would have received had he lent it to somebody else." "Perhaps so. But how to pay him the 200*l.*?" "Tell him, if he does not take back his brougham and horses, you will become bankrupt, and only pay him tenpence in the pound."