“Yes; I know more than you do, as you will find out. You’re a nice sort of man, to come into a man’s house, in a strange land, and make love to his wife. Now, what do you think of yourself? You’re a nice representative of the American, aren’t you?” “I--I didn’t mean any harm--I--couldn’t help it,” replied the stricken boy. “O, for God’s sake, drop that bib-and-tucker twaddle! Couldn’t help it! Every scoundrel, too weak to face the consequences of his sin, says he couldn’t help it. So help me, Joseph, I’d like to thrash you. Couldn’t help it! Now, sit up in your chair, take this cigar, drink this glass of whiskey I’m pouring for you, and make up your mind that you’re going to be a man and not a nincompoop--sit still! Don’t fly up. I mean what I say. I’ve got business to talk to you. And make up your mind that, for once, you have got to take life seriously.” “What right have you to speak to me like this?” demanded the young man with an attempt at dignity. Vandewaters laughed loudly. “Right? Great Scott! The right of a man who thinks a damned sight more of your reputation than you do yourself, and of your fortune than you would ever have wits to do. I am the best friend you’ve got, and not the less your friend because I feel like breaking your ribs. Now, enough of that. This is what I have to say, Pride: to-night you and I are beggars. You understand? Beggars. Out in the cold world, out in the street. Now, what do you think of that?” The shock to Mr. Pride was great. Mr. Vandewaters had exaggerated the disaster; but he had done it with a purpose. The youth gasped “My God!” and dropped his glass. Vandewaters picked it up, and regarded him a moment in silence. Then he began to explain their financial position. He did not explain the one bold stroke which he was playing to redeem their fortunes: if possible. When he had finished the story, he said, “I guess that’s a bit more serious than the little affair in the library half an hour ago?” He rose to his feet. “Look here, Pride, be a man. You’ve never tried it yet. Let me teach you how to face the world without a dollar; how to make a fortune. Then, when you’ve made it, you’ll get what you’ve never had yet--the pleasure of spending money dug out of your own wits.” He carried conviction into a mind not yet all destroyed by effeminacy and indulgence of the emotions. Something of the iron of his own brain got into the brain of the young man, who came to his feet trembling a little, and said: “I don’t mind it so much, if you only stick to me, Vandewaters.” A smile flickered about the corners of Vandewaters’s mouth. “Take a little more whiskey,” he said; “then get into bed, and go to sleep. No nonsense, remember; go to sleep. To-morrow morning we will talk. And see here, my boy,”--he caught him by both arms and fastened his eyes,--“you have had a lesson: learn it backwards. Good night.”