"Doing? Everything that's worth doing. Working, seeing people, dreaming. You've heard of Chatterton? He, poor devil, came from Bristol to this wonderful city when he was about as young as I am; he poisoned himself in a garret. I promise you I won't do that; life's too strong in me; and if it comes, as it will, to a rough and tumble with the world, the world goes down. But I'm working as he worked--writing. You'll all be proud of me some day. I've met men already in these few days who have begun to encourage me and tell me what I can do and how to do it. I've been stringing rhymes for years--ever since I was a boy; now I'm stringing rhymes in good earnest. I've had introductions here, introductions there; this one has promised to take me up, that one to see that I'm not forgotten. There's a trick in this as there is in everything else--the trick of making people believe in you, making people like you. You've got to show yourself a very fine fellow, and to declare that you _are_ a very fine fellow; if you're loud enough about it, people will believe you. Here's your bank, you millionaire. Shall I wait for you, or come in?" "Oh, come in, if you like," said Comethup. Brian Carlaw was close at his elbow when he presented the cheque; even laughed easily when Comethup hesitated a moment as to how he should take the money. "Take it how you will, so that you get it," he suggested. And when the boy had folded the notes and thrust them into his pocket, his cousin linked arms with him again and drew him out of the bank. "Where are you going?" asked Comethup, as they reached the pavement. "Going?" said Brian laughingly. "Well, I'm going to keep you in sight, youngster; you have no right to be wandering at large in this dreadful city with all that money in your pockets. Frankly, I'm going to have lunch with you. My breakfast this morning was a small affair, and I was casting about in my mind as to how to obtain a lunch when I met you. Genius always has to do that kind of thing, you know; it's one of its penalties. You shall give me the best lunch in town." Comethup could not well refuse; but he was torn between the thought of this reckless, penniless, hungry cousin of his, and the remembrance of a certain blind old woman, to whom he owed everything, sitting in her solitary dining room and lunching alone and anxiously awaiting his return. However, before he had time to think about the matter with any clearness Brian had thrust him into the waiting cab and had instructed the driver in a loud voice to drive them somewhere where they could lunch. "The best place in London," he added, "and look sharp."