His foot was on the step of the vehicle when a hand was clapped on his shoulder, and he heard a familiar voice ejaculating his name. He turned quickly, and saw the smiling face of Brian Carlaw. He could not help noticing, even in that first brief glance, that Brian had changed in some indefinable fashion, although it was comparatively but a few days since they had met outside the school. London seemed to have put its stamp upon the handsome, reckless face, and in the bold eyes, and not to their improvement. Brian's dress had always been careless, but now there was a sheer untidiness about it that seemed to belong to the change of face. "Well, this is lucky," exclaimed Brian, gripping his cousin's hand. "I was just strolling up toward your place. I don't think I'd have ventured to go in, after my recollections of our worthy aunt, but I thought I might get a glimpse of you. And so we flaunt it in hansoms, do we?" He laughed good-humouredly, and slipped his arm affectionately through Comethup's. "In with you. I've nothing to claim me at the moment; I'll go wherever you're going, and you can drop me when I'm likely to be in the way. By Jove! you're a lucky youngster; and yet I don't think I'd change places with you. Where are you going?" "I'm going to the bank," said Comethup, hastily, standing up to give the direction to the driver. As he settled into his place beside Brian he added: "I'm awfully glad to see you; I've been thinking a great deal about you, and wondering what you were doing." "Boy, I'm living--that's what I'm doing. To-day, perhaps with a few shillings in my pocket; to-morrow with nothing. No gilded luxury for me; I've taken Fate by the throat, and I'm going to choke something out of her. I'm only a boy--not nineteen yet--a boy, at least, in years; but I've read there have been glorious boys who started as I have done and took the world by storm. Oh, don't think I'm boasting, don't think I'm mad. The days in Sleepy Hollow are done with; I stayed there too long as it was. In London here--well, a man may starve, or walk with broken boots, but everything about him lives--_lives_, I say; every face of man or woman bears the stamp of a history; every sound, even if it be the sound of an oath, has life in it. I tell you, it's glorious; one has only to gird up one's loins, as it were, and join in the race, and the excitement keeps you going; it must." "But what are you doing?" asked Comethup.