; and across the
window-glass, which sheltered the usual display of pipes, tobacco, and
cigars, there ran the gilded legend: "Bohemian Cigar Divan, by T.
Godall." The interior of the shop was small, but commodious and ornate;
the salesman grave, smiling, and urbane; and the two young men, each
puffing a select regalia, had soon taken their places on a sofa of
mouse-coloured plush, and proceeded to exchange their stories.

"I am now," said Somerset, "a barrister; but Providence and the
attorneys have hitherto denied me the opportunity to shine. A select
society at the Cheshire Cheese engaged my evenings; my afternoons, as
Mr. Godall could testify, have been generally passed in this divan; and
my mornings, I have taken the precaution to abbreviate by not rising
before twelve. At this rate, my little patrimony was very rapidly and, I
am proud to remember, most agreeably expended. Since then a gentleman,
who has really nothing else to recommend him beyond the fact of being my
maternal uncle, deals me the small sum of ten shillings a week; and if
you behold me once more revisiting the glimpses of the street lamps in
my favourite quarter, you will readily divine that I have come into a
fortune."

"I should not have supposed so," replied Challoner. "But doubtless I met
you on the way to your tailors."

"It is a visit that I purpose to delay," returned Somerset, with a
smile. "My fortune has definite limits. It consists, or rather this
morning it consisted, of one hundred pounds."

"That is certainly odd," said Challoner; "yes, certainly the coincidence
is strange. I am myself reduced to the same margin."

"You!" cried Somerset. "And yet Solomon in all his glory----"

"Such is the fact. I am, dear boy, on my last legs," said Challoner.
"Besides the clothes in which you see me, I have scarcely a decent
trouser in my wardrobe; and if I knew how, I would this instant set
about some sort of work or commerce. With a hundred pounds for capital,
a man should push his way."

"It may be," returned Somerset; "but what to do with mine is more than I
can fancy.--Mr. Godall," he added, addressing the salesman, "you are a
man who knows the world: what can a young fellow of reasonable education
do with a hundred pounds?"

"It depends," replied the salesman, withdrawing his cheroot. "The power
of money is an article of faith in which I profess myself a sceptic. A
hundred pounds will with difficulty support you for a year; with
somewh