exquisite example--

CROCKSTEAD. By no means. I am merely trying to do the right thing, though
perhaps not the conventional one. Before making you the formal offer of my
hand and fortune, which amounts to a little over three millions--

ALINE. [_Fanning herself._] How people exaggerate! Between six and seven,
_I_ heard.

CROCKSTEAD. Only three at present, but we must be patient. Before throwing
myself at your feet, metaphorically, I am anxious that you should know
something of the man whom you are about to marry.

ALINE. That is really most considerate!

CROCKSTEAD. I have the advantage of you, you see, inasmuch as you have
many dear friends, who have told me all about you.

ALINE. [_With growing exasperation, but keeping very cool._] Indeed?

CROCKSTEAD. I am aware, for instance, that this is your ninth season--

ALINE. [_Snapping her fan._] You are remarkably well-informed.

CROCKSTEAD. I have been told that again to-night, three times, by charming
young women who vowed that they loved you. Now, as I have no dearest
friends, it is unlikely that you will have heard anything equally definite
concerning myself. I propose to enlighten you.

ALINE. [_Satirically._] The story of your life--how thrilling!

CROCKSTEAD. I trust you may find it so. [_He sits, and pauses for a
moment, then begins, very quietly._] Lady Aline, I am a self-made man, as
the foolish phrase has it--a man whose early years were spent in savage
and desolate places, where the devil had much to say; a man in whom
whatever there once had been of natural kindness was very soon kicked out.
I was poor, and lonely, for thirty-two years: I have been rich, and
lonely, for ten. My millions have been made honestly enough; but poverty
and wretchedness had left their mark on me, and you will find very few
men with a good word to say for Harrison Crockstead. I have no polish, or
culture, or tastes. Art wearies me, literature sends me to sleep--

ALINE. When you come to the chapter of your personal deficiencies, Mr.
Crockstead, please remember that they are sufficiently evident for me to
have already observed them.

CROCKSTEAD. [_Without a trace of annoyance._] That is true. I will pass,
then, to more intimate matters. In a little township in Australia--a
horrible place where there was gold--I met a woman whom I loved. She was
what is technically known as a bad woman. She ran away with another man. I
tracked them to Texas, and in a mining camp there I sh