" he observed, "you would probably be offered your choice of
lunatic asylums. Here your weakness seems to have made you rather the
vogue."

"What weakness?"

"It is to a certain extent hearsay, I must admit," Graillot proceeded;
"but the report about you is that, although you have had some of the
most beautiful women in London almost offer themselves to you, you still
remain without a mistress."

"What in the world do you mean?" John demanded.

"I mean," Graillot explained frankly, "that for a young man of your age,
your wealth, and your appearance to remain free from any feminine
entanglement is a thing unheard of in my country, and, I should imagine,
rare in yours. It is not so that young men were made when I was young!"

"I don't happen to want a mistress," John remarked, lighting a
cigarette. "I want a wife."

"But meanwhile--"

"You can call me a fool, if you like," John interrupted. "I may be one,
I suppose, from your point of view. All I know is that I want to be able
to offer the woman whom I marry, and who I hope will be the mother of my
children, precisely what she offers me. I want a fair bargain, from her
point of view as well as mine."

Graillot, who had been refilling his pipe, stopped and glowered at his
host.

"What exactly do you mean?" he asked.

"Surely my meaning is plain enough," John replied. "We all have our
peculiar tastes and our eccentricities. One of mine has to do with the
other sex. I cannot make an amusement of them. It is against all my
prejudices."

Graillot carefully completed the refilling of his pipe and lit it
satisfactorily. Then he turned once more to John.

"Let us not be mistaken," he said. "You are a purist!"

"You can call me what you like," John retorted. "I do not believe in one
law for the woman and another for the man. If a man wants a woman, and
we all do more or less, it seems to me that he ought to wait until he
finds one whom he is content to make the mother of his children."

Graillot nodded ponderously.

"Something like this I suspected," he admitted. "I felt that there was
something extraordinary and unusual about you. If I dared, my young
friend, I would write a play about you; but then no one would believe
it. Now tell me something. I have heard your principles. We are face to
face--men, brothers, and friends. Do you live up to them?"

"I have always done so," John declared.

Graillot was silent for several moments. Then he opened his lips to