Arms and the Woman

"And then, I did not know but what you cared nothing for money."

"True. A journalist doesn't care anything about money; the life is too

easy and pleasant, and most of the things he needs are thrown in, as

they say."

This bit of sarcasm did not pass; my cousin laughed again that merry

laugh of his.

"I think we shall become great friends," he said. "I like frankness."

"My remark in its literal sense was the antithesis of frankness."

"Ah, you said too much not to be frank. Frankness is one of the

reasons why I do not get on well with the women. I can't lie in the

right place, and when I do it is generally ten times worse than the

plain truth."

"You're a man of the world, I see."

"No, merely a spectator."

"Well, you have the price of admission; with me it's a free pass. Some

day we will compare notes."

"Who is your banker?"

"Banker? I have none. I distrust banks. They take your mite and

invest it in what-nots, and sometimes when you go for it, it is not

there."

"And then again it multiplies so quickly that you have more than you

know what to do with; eh?"

"As to that I cannot say. It is hearsay, rumor; so far as I know it

may be so. Experience has any number of teachers; the trouble is, we

cannot study under them all. Necessity has been my principal

instructor. Sometimes she has larruped me soundly, though I was a

model scholar. You will go to luncheon with me?"

"If you will promise to dine with me this evening?" And I promised.

For an hour or more we chatted upon congenial topics. He was

surprisingly well informed. He had seen more of the world than I,

though he had not observed it so closely. As we were about to leave,

the door opened, and Phyllis, Ethel and her husband, Mr. Holland,

entered. For a moment the room was filled with the fragrance of

October air and the essence of violets. They had been in town a week.

They had been "doing" the Strand, so Ethel said, and thought they would

make me a brief visit to see how "it was done," the foreign

corresponding. Mr. Wentworth and his wife were already domiciled at

B----, and the young people were going over to enjoy the winter

festivities. Phyllis was unchanged. How like Gretchen, I thought.