"I suppose you're right," said Comethup, "and of course I can't let you go about without any money, especially in a strange city. But I haven't very much with me--only about twenty pounds--and I----"
"My dear boy, twenty pounds means more to me than you can understand; it's a fortune. Twenty pounds will positively save me. You've been used to such a lot that it doesn't seem much to you, but to me--ye gods! twenty pounds banishes dull care and puts me on the high road to fortune. And let me tell you this: I mean to be careful this time; I'm working, as I've told you, and, until I see the results of my work, I ask no more assistance from you or any one; to that I pledge my word."
Comethup handed over the money, and Brian gripped the hand that gave it to him fervently for a moment. "Some day," he said, in a voice of emotion, "some day you will understand more fully what you have done. I don't know how to thank you, old chap."
"Oh, please don't say anything about that," replied Comethup hastily. "Are you going back to London?"
"Oh, I shall stay in Paris for a day or two; it's just a good chance to have a look round, and see what the wonderful place is like; I shall do it cheaply, never fear. By the way," he added, as he rose from his seat, "did I tell you that dad is over here? Followed me to London, and we had an affecting reconciliation--tears and all that sort of business. So as I was coming over here he said he'd come too; couldn't bear to be parted from me. I suppose"--this with a laugh--"I suppose I treated the dear old chap rather badly, and I'm glad to be friends with him again; he's not a bad sort, take him altogether. Perhaps you'd better not tell your aunt that we're here; she doesn't love either of us. Good-bye. I won't ask you to save me again, old chap. Write and let me know where you go, and when; the old address in London will find me. Good-bye."
Comethup, in his bed that night, after much anxious thought came to a resolution. He fully and firmly made up his mind not to write to Brian again. Had the matter rested solely with himself, he could not have formed such a resolve; but he thought of his aunt, and knowing that it was impossible to tell her anything of the matter, he saw clearly that his duty to her was to keep away from Brian. Boy though he was, and great though his admiration was for his cousin, he yet saw clearly enough into the matter to know that Brian would light-heartedly come to him again and again without any thought of the future. It was with a great sense of relief that he heard his aunt next morning declare that they would leave Paris within a few days.