ease?"

"Because princesses who haven't been bottled up in them, but have lived
in the lap of luxury--and in the laps of luxurious mothers--understand
the value of money, and consider men famed for their millions worth a
dozen who've wrapped themselves up in a few rags of some lesser kind of
fame."

"You call being a great artist a lesser kind of fame?"

"I didn't once. But since I've got into the money-making habit, I've
accepted the world's opinion."

"Pooh!" said I rudely. "I don't believe you have, because the first
minute I saw you, I felt sure you were a _real_ man. That's why I just
had to speak to you in the station, instead of one of the others. I
knew--by instinct, I suppose, as you say I know about motors. Think of
the glory of being able to _create_ beautiful things!"

"Think of being able to buy them! Jewels and castles and yachts, and all
sorts of things that women love. Motor-cars for instance."

"You could buy motor-cars with money you earned by painting pictures,
couldn't you?"

"Yes; but not castles or yachts: and not enough jewels to please
princesses who haven't spent eighteen years in a glass retort."

"Well," I said, "I may be no judge, but I think jewels and castles would
be a bother, and I should be seasick in yachts. Give me a man who brings
beautiful things out of his soul, not out of his pockets. You're very
nice now; but you must have been much nicer before you buried your
talents under the shields and bracelets you told me about. Even I know
what you mean by them--and what happened to Tarpeia."

"_Even_ you! I begin to think you were born knowing about a good many
things besides motor-cars. And you are entirely right. I was much nicer
before I began to collect the shields and bracelets."

"Can't you give a lot of them away, and do what I said--go back to the
time before you bargained for them?"

"You don't understand how difficult it is to go back."

"But you are back--in Scotland."

"You're right. Now's my one chance to return to my youth and ideals.
Bright little Princess, thank you for polishing up the dulled surface of
my soul."

"It's only the surface that needs polishing," said I. "The inside part
is shining, even when the outside looks dim. But I'm afraid you're
making fun of me?"

"I was never more in earnest. I'm crossing more than one border with you
to-day."

"Borders you like crossing?"

"Great heavens, yes!"

"I'm glad of that," said I, in a self-satisfie