bright spot in his Derby Day-he wasn't sure that he wouldn't lose another twenty pounds just to see her once again.
"I suppose I'm in love with the thought of her," he said gloomily. "I might as well cry for the moon."
He walked into the office, laid his hat down, and knocked at the door of Mr. Pepperall's private room. He heard voices inside; then the senior partner's voice cried "Come in!" and Goulburn turned the handle of the door and entered.
There were two men in the room—Mr. Pepperall himself, a tall, rather portly old man, who affected old-fashioned collars, and cravats, and very voluminous frock-coats, and whose whiskers were always carefully brushed to a point exactly corresponding on each cheek; and a younger but still elderly man with a keen, observant, clean-shaven face, whose whole appearance suggested the highly respectable solicitor. This gentleman, as Goulburn entered the room, scanned him narrowly. As for the senior partner, his clerk saw very plainly that he was unwontedly nervous, if not agitated. He rose, rubbing his hands, as if he were somewhat embarrassed.
"Er—Mr. Goulburn," he said hurriedly, "I'm sure—er—very sorry to interrupt you at your lunch, but the fact is that this gentleman—Mr. Conybeare, this young gentleman is Mr. Goulburn—is anxious to have a little conversation with you on an important matter which he has already mentioned to me. Perhaps," concluded Mr. Pepperall, still palpably nervous and embarrassed
