red in a moment.

"Families have hung on a thread like that sometimes," said Mark;
"the thread of a solitary life. Perhaps you are born to revive the
fortunes of your race, Doria?"

"There is no 'perhaps.' I am. I have a good demon who talks to me
sometimes. I am born for great deeds. I am very handsome--that was
needful; I am very clever--that, too, was needful. There is only one
thing that stands between me and the ruined castle of my race at
Dolceaqua--only one thing. And that is in the world waiting for me."

Brendon laughed.

"Then what are you doing in this motor launch?"

"Marking the time. Waiting."

"For what?"

"A woman--a wife, my friend. The one thing needful is a woman--with
much money. My face will win her fortune--you understand. That is
why I came to England. Italy has no rich heiresses for the present.
But I have made a false step here. I must go among the elite, where
there is large money. When gold speaks, all tongues are silent."

"You don't deceive yourself?"

"No--I know what I have to market. Women are very attracted by the
beauty of my face, signor."

"Are they?"

"It is the type--classical and ancient--that they adore. Why not?
Only a fool pretends that he is less than he is. Such a gifted
man as I, with the blood of a proud and a noble race in his
veins--everything to be desired--romance--and the gift to love as
only an Italian loves--such a man must find a very splendid, rich
girl. It is only a question of patience. But such a treasure will
not be found with this old sea wolf. He is not of long descent. I
did not know. I should have seen him and his little mean hole first
before coming to him. I advertise again and get into a higher
atmosphere."

Brendon found his thoughts wholly occupied with Jenny Pendean. Was
it within the bounds of possibility that she, as time passed to
dim her sufferings and sense of loss, might look twice at this
extraordinary being? He wondered, but thought it improbable.
Moreover the last of the Dorias evidently aimed at greater position
and greater wealth than Michael Pendean's widow had to offer. Mark
found himself despising the extraordinary creature, who violated so
frankly and cheerfully every English standard of reserve and
modesty. Yet the other's self-possession and sense of his own value
in the market impressed him.

He was glad to give Doria five shillings and leave him at the
landing-stage. But none the less Giuseppe haunted his imaginati