AUGUSTUS MELMOTTE, Esq.,
Grosvenor Square.

The letter was dated 21st July, and bore the printed address of the
offices of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway.

'You'll give me that cheque for L200, Mr Melmotte?' The financier
hesitated for a moment, but did give the baronet the cheque as
promised. 'And you'll see about letting me have those shares?'

'You can come to me in Abchurch Lane, you know.' Sir Felix said that
he would call in Abchurch Lane.

As he went westward towards the Beargarden, the baronet was not happy
in his mind. Ignorant as he was as to the duties of a gentleman,
indifferent as he was to the feelings of others, still he felt ashamed
of himself. He was treating the girl very badly. Even he knew that he
was behaving badly. He was so conscious of it that he tried to console
himself by reflecting that his writing such a letter as that would not
prevent his running away with the girl, should he, on consideration,
find it to be worth his while to do so.

That night he was again playing at the Beargarden, and he lost a great
part of Mr Melmotte's money. He did in fact lose much more than the
L200; but when he found his ready money going from him he issued
paper.

CHAPTER XXXVIII - PAUL MONTAGUE'S TROUBLES

Paul Montague had other troubles on his mind beyond this trouble of
the Mexican Railway. It was now more than a fortnight since he had
taken Mrs Hurtle to the play, and she was still living in lodgings at
Islington. He had seen her twice, once on the following day, when he
was allowed to come and go without any special reference to their
engagement, and again, three or four days afterwards, when the meeting
was by no means so pleasant. She had wept, and after weeping had
stormed. She had stood upon what she called her rights, and had dared
him to be false to her. Did he mean to deny that he had promised to
marry her? Was not his conduct to her, ever since she had now been in
London, a repetition of that promise? And then again she became soft,
and pleaded with him. But for the storm he might have given way. At
the moment he had felt that any fate in life would be better than a
marriage on compulsion. Her tears and her pleadings, nevertheless,
touched him very nearly. He had promised her most distinctly. He had
loved her and had won her love. And she was lovely. The very violence
of the storm made the sunshine more sweet. She would sit down on a
stool at his feet, and i