citement of doing some good
deed, of undergoing the effects of a narcotic which put to sleep reason
and practical common-sense, and left alive only a desire to befriend.
In this case, determined not again to be the victim of sentimentality,
determined for once to unite common sense and common humanity, he
forcibly dissipated the haze and said:

"Your family! I have, as you know, understood from Mrs. Falconer, the
facts of the case. You must not be formal with me." He smiled
delightfully. "I am an American; you know we have all sorts of
barbarous privileges. We rush in quite where the older races fear to
tread ... and Molly Malines' father is an old friend of mine."

(Mr. Bulstrode did not say what kind of an old friend! or even allow
himself to remember the I.O.U.s and loans that his bankers had made to
the visionary, good-humored, sanguine, unfortunate stockbroker.)

"Your family--how do they take the idea of your marriage to a poor
American?"

De Presle-Vaulx pushed his coffee cup aside, leaned his arms on the
table, bent over, and said with more confidence:

"Oh, they are entirely opposed to it. That's one reason, to be quite
frank with you, why I have been so reckless."

He added: "My mother has refused her consent, and I can never hope to
alter my father's attitude. I have their letters to-day as well as
telegrams from Presle-Vaulxoron--they bid me 'come home immediately,'
and so far as my people are concerned, their refusal puts an end to the
affair!"

There was a mixture of amusement and reproach in Bulstrode's tone--"and
you have found nothing better to do than to throw away at baccarat what
money you had, and have found no other solution for the future than
to...?" he eyed the young man keenly, and a proper severity came into
his expression. "Nonsense," he said, and repeated the word with more
indulgence: "nonsense, _mon ami_!"

His reproof was borne:

"We are an old race, M. Bulstrode----"

Bulstrode had heard this allocution before. It gave lee-way to so
much; permitted so much; excused so much!

"... I don't need to tell you our traditions, or recall our customs.
You of course know them. If I marry without my parents' consent I
shall probably, during my mother's lifetime, never see her again, and I
am her only son. It means that I sever all relations with my people."

Bulstrode knocked the ash off his cigar and said thoughtfully:

"It's too bad! A choice, if there _is_ one, is al