e truth?" said Bojo doubtfully.

"I will."

"Of course we all want to make a million first," said Fred DeLancy,
laughing. "Roscy's got his, so I suppose he wants ten. First place, is
it admitted each of us wants a million? Every properly brought up young
American ought to believe in that, oughtn't he?"

"Freddie, behave yourself," said Bojo severely. "Be serious."

"Serious," said DeLancy, with an offended air. "I'll be more serious
than any of you and I'll tell more of the truth and when I do you won't
believe me."

"Go on, Roscy, start first."

"Freddie's right in one respect. I intend to treble what I've got in ten
years or go bankrupt," said Marsh instantly. He flung the stub of his
cigar out into the night, watched it a moment in earthbound descent, and
then leaned forward over the table, elbows down, hands clasped, the
lights laying deep shadows about the hollowed eyes, the outstanding ears
accentuating the irregularity and oddity of the head. "I'm not sure but
that would be the best thing for me. If I had to start at the bottom I
believe I'd do something. I mean something big."

A half-concealed smile passed about the group, accustomed to the
speaker's dramatic instincts.

"Well, I've got to start at life in a different way. The trouble is, in
this American scheme I have no natural place unless I make one. Abroad I
could settle down to genteel loafing and find a lot of other congenial
loafers, who would gamble, hunt, fish, race, globe-trot, beat up Africa
in search of big sport, or drift around fashionable capitals for a bit
of amusement; either that or if I wanted to develop along the line of
brains there's a career in politics or a chance at diplomacy. Here we
are developing millionaires as fast as we can turn them out and never
thinking how we can employ them. What's the result? The daughters of
great fortunes marry foreign titles as fast as they get the chance in
order to get the opportunity to enjoy their wealth to the fullest,
because here there is no class so limited and circumscribed without
national significance as our so-called Four Hundred; the sons either
become dissipated loafers, professional amateurs of sport, or are
condemned to piling more dollars on dollars, which is an absurdity."

"I grieve for the millionaire," interjected DeLancy flippantly.

"And yet you want to triple what you've got," said Bojo with a smile.

"I'm coming to that--wait. Now the idea of money grubbing is distast