oped
for. The disappointment was too much for him."

"But--didn't he LOVE her?" Lydia Herbert put the question almost
imperatively.

Mr. Sam Gwent raised his eyebrows quizzically. "I guess you came out of
the Middle Ages!" he observed--"What's 'love'? Did you ever know a
woman with millions of money who got 'loved'? Not a bit of it! Her
MONEY is loved--but not herself. She's the encumbrance to the cash."

"Then--then--you mean to tell me Jack was only after the money--?"

"What else should he be after? The woman? There are thousands of
women,--all to be had for the asking--they pitch themselves at men
headlong--no hesitation or modesty about them nowadays! Jack's asking
would never have been refused by any one of them. But the millions of
Morgana Royal are not to be got every day!"

Miss Herbert's rather thin lips tightened into a close line,--she
flicked some light tear-drops away from her eyes with a handkerchief as
fine as a cobweb delicately perfumed, and stood silently looking out on
the view from the verandah.

"You see," pursued Gwent, in his cold, deliberate accents, "Jack was
ruined financially. And he has all but ruined ME. Now he has taken
himself out of the way with a pistol shot, and left me to face the
music for him. Morgana Royal was his only chance. She led him on,--she
certainly led him on. He thought he had her,--then--just as he was
about to pin the butterfly to his specimen card, away it flew!"

"Cute butterfly!" interjected Miss Herbert.

"Maybe. Maybe not. We shall see. Anyway Jack's game is finished."

"And I suppose this is why, as you say, Morgana has gone off 'in the
midst of many social duties'? Was Jack one of her social duties?"

Gwent gazed at her with an unrevealing placidity.

"No. Not exactly," he replied--"I give her credit for not knowing
anything of his intention to clear out. Though I don't think she would
have tried to alter his intention if she had."

Miss Herbert still surveyed the scenery.

"Well,--I don't feel so sorry for him now you tell me it was only the
money he was after"--she said--"I thought he was a finer character--"

"You're talking 'Middle Ages' again,"--interrupted Gwent--"Who wants
fine characters nowadays? The object of life is to LIVE, isn't it? And
to 'live' means to get all you can for your own pleasure and
profit,--take care of Number One!--and let the rest of the world do as
it likes. It's quite YOUR method,--though you pretend it isn't!"

"