heard a
voice say, "You have dropped your glove, Mr. Pelham."

The speaker was Thornton. I thanked him coldly for his civility, and
was going on, when he said, "If your way is up Pall Mall, I have no
objection to join you for a few minutes."

I bowed with some hauteur; and as I seldom refuse any opportunity of
knowing more perfectly individual character, I said I should be happy of
his company so long as our way lay together.

"It is a cold night, Mr. Pelham," said Thornton, after a pause. "I have
been dining at Hatchett's, with an old Paris acquaintance: I am sorry we
did not meet more often in France, but I was so taken up with my friend
Mr. Warburton."

As Thornton uttered that name, he looked hard at me, and then added, "By
the by, I saw you with Sir Reginald Glanville the other day; you know
him well, I presume?"

"Tolerably well," said I, with indifference.

"What a strange character he is," rejoined Thornton; "I also have
known him for some years," and again Thornton looked pryingly into my
countenance. Poor fool, it was not for a penetration like his to read
the cor inscrutabile of a man born and bred like me, in the consummate
dissimulation of bon ton.

"He is very rich, is he not?" said Thornton, after a brief silence.

"I believe so," said I.

"Humph!" answered Thornton. "Things have grown better with him, in
proportion as they grew worse with me, who have had 'as good luck as
the cow that stuck herself with her own horn.' I suppose he is not too
anxious to recollect me--'poverty parts fellowship.' Well, hang pride,
say I; give me an honest heart all the year round, in summer or winter,
drought or plenty. Would to God, some kind friend would lend me twenty
pounds."

To this wish I made no reply. Thornton sighed.

"Mr. Pelham," renewed he, "it is true I have known you but a short
time--excuse the liberty I take--but if you could lend me a trifle, it
would really assist me very much."

"Mr. Thornton," said I, "if I knew you better, and could serve you more,
you might apply to me for a more real assistance than any bagatelle I
could afford you would be. If twenty pounds would really be of service
to you, I will lend it you, upon this condition, that you never ask me
for another farthing."

Thornton's face brightened. "A thousand, thousand--" he began.

"No," interrupted I, "no thanks, only your promise."

"Upon my honour," said Thornton, "I will never ask you for another
farthing."

"There