with it. He's a citizen of the world, is Frank. He'd be on
Fifth Avenue or in Sing Sing within a twelvemonth. But there's no need
for him to come to America. He's fallen on his feet again apparently in
London. I hope he stops there."

"You seem to have some secret fear of your brother, Mr. Carville----" I
began.

"Secret? There's nothing secret about it, sir. I'm scared of him. You
don't know him, so you can't understand how you'd feel about it. I tell
you the mere presence of that chap in the room unsettles people. He's a
disturbing influence. Even strangers notice it. Suppose he was over
here, and me away in the Mediterranean? You've no idea how he can talk
and wheedle and explain everything to suit his own ends. I do."

I did not say so, but I understood Mr. Carville's feelings. Cecil's
letters bore him out very completely.

"There's another thing you may not appreciate. When you're married you
will, no doubt. A man and his wife aren't always on the same dead level
terms with each other. Little differences, lasting perhaps an hour or a
minute, sometimes till breakfast, crop up. Even in a case like mine,
here to-day and gone to-morrow, we can get on each other's nerves.
There's friction in every machine ... unavoidable. You understand me,
sir?"

"Yes," I said. "As well as a bachelor can, I think I appreciate your
point. You mean that since you can't foresee these minor affairs and
since you may leave home before the clouds roll by...."

"That's just it! Imagine a man like Frank living next door say, a man
who has known Rosa, as I told you ... See?"

As we stepped upon the ferry I noticed that his features were sharp and
bore the impress of a quite unusual secret care, I felt guiltily that we
had been unwise to tell so much to the painter-cousin. Who could tell
what it might not lead to, even after so long an interval, with so
incalculable a man as this brother?

With the bellow of the whistle Mr. Carville's face cleared and assumed
its wonted placidity. The deck trembled as the screw began to revolve,
and imperceptibly we moved out towards Governor's Island. It was just
here, I think, as we began our little six-mile journey to St. George,
that a sudden illumination came to me. I understood Mr. Carville's
reason for waiting instead of explaining his impression of New York. He
gave me credit, apparently, for the ability to find it out for myself.

The vessel was going swiftly now over the shining waters of New