Sam, and is
not such a gawk as Bott. I wonder whether he would make me mind? I am
afraid he would, and I don't know whether I would like it or not. I
suppose if I married him I would be as poor as a crow all my days. I
couldn't stand that. I won't have him. I wish he would make his little
speech and go."

But he seemed in no hurry to go. He was talking volubly about himself,
lying with the marvellous fluency which interest and practice give to
such men, and Maud presently found herself listening intently to his
stories. He had been in Mexico, it seemed. He owned a silver mine
there. He got a million dollars out of it, but took it into his head
one day to overturn the Government, and was captured and his money
taken; barely escaped the garrote by strangling his jailer; owned the
mine still, and should go back and get it some day, when he had
accomplished certain purposes in this country. There were plenty of
people who wished he was gone now. The President had sent for him to
come, to Washington; he went, and was asked to breakfast; nobody there
but them two; they ate off gold plates like he used to in Mexico; the
President then offered him a hundred thousand to leave, was afraid he
would make trouble; told the President to make it a million and then he
wouldn't. His grandfather was one of the richest men in Europe; his
father ran away with his mother out of a palace. "You must have heard
of my father, General Offitt, of Georgy? No? He was the biggest
slaveholder in the State. I have got a claim against the Government,
now, that's good for a million if it's worth a cent; going to
Washington next winter to prosecute it."

Maud was now saying to herself, "Why, if half this is true, he is a
remarkable man," like many other credulous people, not reflecting that,
when half a man says is false, the other half is apt to be also. She
began to think it would be worth her while, a red feather in her cap,
to refuse such a picturesque person; and then it occurred to her that
he had not proposed to marry her, and possibly had no such intention.
As his stream of talk, dwelling on his own acts of valor and craft, ran
on, she began to feel slightly piqued at its lack of reference to
herself. Was this to be a mere afternoon call after all, with no combat
and no victory? She felt drawn after awhile to bring her small
resources of coquetry into play. She interrupted him with saucy doubts
and questions; she cast at him smiles and glances