g, absolutely at his ease. As usual he was putting me in wrong
before some one I knew. 'Why,' he says, 'even that silly blue-nosed old
bounder of a captain of yours has given me a good character. Come on,
Charley, be a sport. 'Pon my soul, Charley, I never knew you were much
of a man with the girls. Sly old dog, eh? Going to sea all this time and
spotting all the hot-house fruit, eh?'

"'Frank,' I said, 'this lady is my future wife.'

"He fell away from us in his surprise, looked from Rosa to me and back
again, quick, like a bird, and then burst into a roar of laughter.

"My brother Frank is one of those men who simply cannot believe in
women. They honestly do not believe a virtuous woman exists. They strike
you as vicious and coarse, these men, just when they are trying to be
most charming. To my brother women were hot-house fruit. You can't blame
such men altogether, because women themselves foster the idea. They act
more like lunatics than sane people. Their heads are turned. No, you
can't blame the men entirely.

"My brother was perfectly sincere when he burst out laughing at me. He
didn't believe me for a minute. The idea of my 'walking-out' with a
young lady in Genoa was comic. It was of a piece with all the rest of my
damn foolishness. I never attempted to explain my feelings to him, and I
don't suppose he understands to this day the terrible pain his laugh
gave me. You can realize, when I'd been known to Rosa so long, that it
would.

"My brother, somewhat to my surprise, left it at that. He threw up his
hands, still holding the lottery-tickets, and turned away. We went into
the theatre, and when we were fixed in the _poltrone_, seats where you
can have a little table brought to you for the drinks and ices, I was
able to explain something of my brother's record to Rosa. Every thing I
told her about him interested her. Compared with my own history it was a
story of adventure indeed. She would ask questions to lead me on. 'What
did he do then?' When I told her simply that I'd met him 'down and out'
at Buenos Ayres, she was so sorry. The mere trifling fact that he'd
robbed one woman and swindled half-a-dozen others didn't matter. Of
course, I couldn't tell her the details of Gladys' story--he had me
there! And I wouldn't lower myself to speak of how he tried to choke me.
After all, I believe that was a mistake. He wouldn't do that to me
knowingly. So that you see, when you come to look at the tale I told
Rosa,