The time soon came when the prospective Awakener of England awoke to
the fact that he must fare forth into the sleeping land with but a
guinea in his pocket. The future did not dismay him, for he knew now
that his dreams came true. But he was terribly anxious, more anxious
than ever, to leave Drane's Court with all the prestige of the
prospective Awakener. Now, this final scene of the production could
not be worked for a guinea. There were golden tips to servants,
there was the first-class railway fare. Once in London--he could
pawn things to keep him going, and a Bloomsbury landlady with whom
he had lodged, since the loss of Jane, would give him a fortnight or
three weeks' credit. But he had to get to London-to get there
gloriously; so that when the turn of Fortune's wheel enabled him to
seek again these wonderful friends in the aristocratic sphere to
which he belonged, he could come among them untarnished, the
conquering prince. But that miserable guinea! He racked his brains.
There was his gold watch and chain, a symbol, to his young mind, of
high estate. When he had bought it there crossed his mind the silly
thought of its signification of the infinite leagues that lay
between him and Billy Goodge. He could pawn it for ten pounds--it
would be like pawning his heart's blood--but where? Not in
Morebury, even supposing there was a pawnbroker's in the place. He
had many friends in his profession, scattered up and down the land.
But he had created round himself the atmosphere of the young
magnifico. It was he who had lent, others who had borrowed.
Rothschild or Rockefeller inviting any of them to lend him money
would have produced less jaw-dropping amazement. Even if he sent his
pride flying and appealed to the most friendly and generous, he
shrank from the sacrifice he would call upon the poor devil to make.
There was only his beautiful and symbolic watch and chain. The