nd no one more
deservedly so, for his bad qualities were never so bad that one need
hesitate about calling him a good fellow. His habits were easy but
genteel. When intoxicated he never smashed things, and when sober,--which
was his common condition,--he took extremely good care of other people's
reputations. Women liked him, which should not be surprising; and men
liked him because he was not to be spoiled by the women who liked him,
which is saying a great deal for an indolent young man with money. He had
a smile that always appeared at its best in the morning, and survived the
day with amazing endurance. And that also is saying a great deal for a
young man who is favoured by both sexes and a _supposedly_ neutral Dame
Fortune at the same time. He had broken many of the laws of man and some
of those imposed by God, but he always paid without apology. He was
inevitably pardoned by man and paroled by his Maker,--which is as much as
to say that he led a pretty decent sort of existence and enjoyed
exceedingly good health.

He really wasn't much to look at. Being a trifle under medium height,
weighing less than one hundred and twenty pounds stripped, as wiry as a
cat and as indefatigable as a Scotch terrier, and with an abnormally large
pair of ears that stood out like oyster shells from the sides of a round,
sleek head, he made no pretentions to physical splendour,--unless, by
chance, you would call the perky little straw-coloured moustache that
adorned his long upper lip a tribute to vanity. His eyes were blue and
merry and set wide apart under a bulging, intellectual looking forehead,
and his teeth were large and as white as snow. When he laughed the world
laughed with him, and when he tried to appear downcast the laughter went
on just the same, for then he was more amusing than ever.

"I didn't know you were a friend of hers," said he as they stood in front
of the hotel waiting for the taxi that was to take Thorpe to a hospital.

Thorpe remembered the admonition. "I tried to put a little back-bone into
George Tresslyn at the time of the rumpus, if that's what you'd call being
a friend to her," he said evasively.

"She's a nice little girl," said Simmy, "and she's been darned badly
treated. Mrs. Tresslyn has never gotten over the fact that Lutie made her
pay handsomely to get the noble Georgie back into the smart set. Plucky
little beggar, too. Lot of people like the Fenns and the Roush girls have
taken her up, primar