“Mr. Knapp is not a man to lose,” I said. “Mr. Knapp is a strong man,” she said with a proud straightening of her figure. “But the whirlpool can suck down the strongest swimmer.” “But I suspect Mr. Knapp makes whirlpools instead of swimming into them,” I said meaningly. “Ah, Henry,” she said sadly, “how often have I told you that the best plan may come to ruin in the market? It may not take much to start a boulder rolling down the mountain-side, but who is to tell it to stop when once it is set going?” “I think,” said I, smiling, “that Mr. Knapp would ride the boulder and find himself in a gold mine at the end of the journey.” “Perhaps. But you're not telling me what Mr. Knapp is doing.” “He can tell you much better than I.” “No doubt,” she said with a trace of sarcasm in her voice. “And here he comes to do it, I expect,” I said, as the tall figure of the King of the Street appeared in the doorway opposite. “I'm afraid I shall have to depend on the newspapers,” she said. “Mr. Knapp is as much afraid of a woman's tongue as you are. Oh,” she continued after a moment's pause, “I was going to make you give an account of yourself; but since you will tell nothing I must introduce you to my cousin, Mrs. Bowser.” And she led me, unresisting, to a short, sharp-featured woman of sixty or thereabouts, who rustled her silks, and in a high, thin voice professed herself charmed to see me. She might have claimed and held the record as the champion of the conversational ring. I had never met her equal before, nor have I met one to surpass her since. Had I been long in the city? She had been here only a week. Came from down Maine way. This was a dear, dreadful city with such nice people and such dreadful winds, wasn't it? And then she gave me a catalogue of the places she had visited, and the attractions of San Francisco, with a wealth of detail and a poverty of interest that was little less than marvelous. Fortunately she required nothing but an occasional murmur of assent in the way of answer from me. I looked across the room to the corner where Luella was entertaining the insignificant Inman. How vivacious and intelligent she appeared! Her face and figure grew on me in attractiveness, and I felt that I was being very badly used. As I came to this point I was roused by the sound of two low voices that just behind me were plainly audible under the shrill treble of Mrs. Bowser. They were women with their heads close in gossip. “Shocking, isn't it?” said one. “Dreadful!” said the other. “It gives me the creeps to think of it.” “Why don't they lock him up? Such a creature shouldn't be allowed to go at large.” “Oh, you see, maybe they can't be sure about it. But I've heard it's a case of family pride.” I was recalled from this dialogue by Mrs. Bowser's fan on my arm, and her shrill voice in my ear with, “What is your idea about it, Mr. Wilton?” “I think you are perfectly right,” I said heartily, as she paused for an answer.