says.

"I can see one sticking out," he says.

"Well, take it," she responds, innocently and all unconsciously, for
she is thinking of her driving far more than the rain or the rug or
anything else.

He looks at her intent and absorbed face, and puts up his hand and
draws the hairpin from its soft and silken nest, and she, unheeding,
does not know that his hand trembles, actually trembles, as he fastens
the rug round her.

"Now give me the reins," he says, "and keep your head down; we are in
for a regular storm."

As he speaks, the rain comes down with a whiz, as if it meant to wash
them off the box.

Leslie laughs.

"After all, it is a proper picnic," she says.

But the next instant her laugh dies away, for the heavens seem to open
before them,are likely to be a nobleman yourself some
day, Mr. Duncombe. You have only to enter Parliament----."

He shook his head by way of stopping her.

"I have no ambition in that direction, Lady Eleanor," he said, almost
gloomily. "I am a man of business, and care nothing for titles. I was
going to say and for little else; but I suppose that wouldn't be true.
I do care for money; I've been bred to that. Is there anything else you
would like to say to me?" he broke off abruptly.

His manner was so singular, so unlike his usual one, that Lady Eleanor
was startled.

"Thank you, no," she said; "except--except that I should be glad if you
could get any other bills or debts of Lord Auchester's."

He nodded.

"Certainly." He brushed his hat slowly, then added, "Excuse me,