ways too bad. There
should in real things _be_ no choice. As soon as such a contingent
arises, it proves that neither thing is really worth while! When a man
loves a woman there can be no choice. My dear friend, when a
_man_"--he paused--"loves--there is nothing in the world _but the
woman_."

The Marquis looked at the fine face of the elder man. Years had, with
their gentle history, and kindly records, touched Jimmy Bulstrode
lightly. Every experience made him better to look at; "like a good
picture," Mrs. Falconer had said, "painted by a master, and only
growing more splendid." Nothing of the worldliness of the roue marked
his expression. His memories were clear and honorable, and the
Frenchman experienced a sensation of surprise and also one of
enlightenment as he looked at him and responded to his expression. He
had never seen any one quite like this man of the world, could not
think of his prototype in France.

He repeated:

"Nothing but the woman in the world--? Honor--" Bulstrode quickly
added, "and the woman--they are synonymous."

In watching his companion he wondered in how much of a tangle the
Frenchman's mind was, and just how deep his feet were sunk in the
meshes of conventionality and tradition, and decided: "Oh, is it too
much to believe that he could----!"

As if in answer to his thoughts, De Presle-Vaulx spoke in the simplest
manner possible:

"J'aime Molly."

Quite surprised at the simplicity, Bulstrode beamed on him and waited.

Then the other added:

"But I can't ask any woman to share poverty and debts, and I have no
way of making a living; I'm not bred for it."

"You are not an invalid?"

"On the contrary."

"You can work."

De Presle-Vaulx smiled: "I am afraid not! No De Presle-Vaulx has done
a stroke of work in three hundred years."

"It's time, then"--Bulstrode was tart--"that you broke the record. Why
don't you?" He said as though suddenly illumined--"make me your
banker, draw on me for whatever sum you will, and since you have faith
in her and are so well supported by the public opinion--bet on Grimace.
I believe, with you, that he is sure to win. You would recoup much of
your loss here."

De Presle-Vaulx pushed back his chair and exclaimed: "Monsieur!"

"Oh," shrugged Bulstrode, "a woman's caprice, my dear fellow! A
foolish little whim of a girl! You can't be expected to mix sport and
flirtation to the tune of two or three thousand dollars."

He smiled