“No, I don’t look it, do I? But I married when I was eighteen--the more fool I!--to a pretty little girl you could almost blow away. Yes; and now she weighs sixteen stone. She has very bad health, and seldom goes out, though I keep a fine carriage and horses for her. She does not care for anything much, as long as she has her priest, her doctor, her woman cronies, who tell her all the gossip, and her coffee. Oh, she is very particular about her coffee. She is not fond of clothes, or jewellery, or show; indeed, poor woman, she is too unwieldy to dress and go about. Now, _I_ am a society man;” and he threw himself back with a smile of extravagant superiority. “I go round looking after the property, I run up to Mussouri often, I have plenty of friends. I do a little betting, I play billiards, I am passionately fond of dancing. I appreciate a good dinner and a pretty woman--and pretty women appreciate _me_. Oh yes!” He half closed his eyes, and puffed and blinked alternately, with an air of ineffable content. It was all that his _vis-à-vis_ could do to keep his countenance; indeed, he was not entirely successful. “Oh, you may laugh!” exclaimed Mr. Cardozo, with perfect good humour. “Other men laugh, too; but _I_ win--I walk in,” he concluded, with an air of superb complacency. Mark gazed dispassionately at his little stout, sleek companion. He was fat and forty, effeminate and vain; but then he was wealthy and good-natured. Were these the traits that appeal most strongly to women-kind? “I am a great ladies’ man, I do assure you. I could show you letters----” Jervis made a gesture of frantic dissent. “Bah, bah, bah! Why, you know very well you’ve had fifty love affairs _yourself_.” “If I had I should keep them to myself.” “That’s a snub”--with a roar of laughter. “And you _would_; you are a close sort of fellow, I should say. Now, I am not; I like talking about my experiences.” “With Mrs. Cardozo, of course.” “Mrs. Cardozo knows there is no harm in _me_; but I must have my own friends, just as she has hers.” And he stretched out his arm and amorously contemplated a slender gold bangle. “I suppose”--with a self-conscious smile--“you don’t possess one?” “Great aunt! I should think not. Do you wear a necklace, too?” Mr. Cardozo, who was certainly the soul of good humour, burst into another roar of laughter; and Fuzzil, who was listening at the door, reported that “the Kala Sahib and the other were talking like brothers.” “Well, well; enjoy life while you may--that’s _my_ motto.” And he drank off a bumper of Madeira and smacked his lips audibly. “You need not be shocked; I shall take the best care of Maria as long as she lives, and when she dies I shall marry again--probably a young girl.” Mark offered no comment, none being required.