He saw her cold, regular features light up. “I love hunting,” she said. “It’s the one thing that can make me forget myself, and everything except just being alive and well.” Then her face shadowed and chilled, and she looked at her book so significantly that Frothingham was forced to rise and leave. At luncheon the man in the chair next him--Barney, who had told him in the first half-hour of their acquaintance all about his big dry-goods shop in Chicago--said: “I saw you talking to Longview on deck. Is he a friend of yours?” “An acquaintance,” replied Frothingham. He rather liked Barney because he was shrewd and humourous, and treated him in an offhand fashion that was amusing in a “tradesman”--from America. “He’s a low-down snob,” said Barney, encouraged by Frothingham’s disclaimer. “One of those fellows that think their own country ain’t good enough for them. I was glad when he got himself naturalised over in your country. You’re welcome to him. What kind of people does he herd with in England?” “We like him very well, I believe. He seems to be an agreeable chap.” “I suppose he kowtows and blows himself, and so they let him hang onto the tailboard--he ain’t heavy and don’t take up much room. His grandfather stole with both hands, and put it in real estate. Then his father made quite a bunch in the early railroad days. And now this fellow’s posing as an aristocrat. If he wasn’t rich who’d notice him?” “Then he’s rich?” inquired Frothingham. “Yes and no,” replied Barney, his rich man’s jealousy visibly roused. “There was a big family of them. He’s got maybe a couple of millions or three. That ain’t much in these days. You heard about his knockout?” “Has he lost part of his money?” “I thought everybody knew that story--it was in all the papers. No, it wasn’t money--worse than that, from his point of view. His daughter--she’s with him on the ship--fell in love with the second son of some marquis or other. But he didn’t have anything, and I believe you titled people ain’t allowed to work. Longview was red-headed--wouldn’t give his daughter a cent unless she married a big title. And then the young man’s older brother died.” “Was it the Marquis of Dullingford?” “Yes, that was it. And right on top of it his elder brother’s two sons were drowned, and he came into the title and estates. And what does he do but up and marry an English girl that he’d been struck on all the time, but couldn’t marry because he was so poor. Longview nearly went crazy at missing the chance. And his daughter--it must have made her mighty sour to find out that the fellow had been only pretending to be in love with her, and was really out for her cash, and didn’t care a rap about her. A low pup, wasn’t he?” Frothingham began to detest Barney--“an impudent, malicious beggar,” he thought. He gave him his monocle’s coldest stare.