“Say, that’s where he wins out with me,” Tembarom replied admiringly. “He gets in such fine work that I switch him on to it whenever I want cheering up. It makes me sort o’ forget things that worry me just to see a man act the part right up to the top notch the way he does it. The very way his clothes fit, the style he’s got his hair brushed, and that swell, careless lounge of his, are half of the make-up. You see, most of us couldn’t mistake him for anything else but just what he looks like--a gentleman visiting round among his friends and a million miles from wanting to butt in with business. The thing that first got me interested was watching how he slid in the sort of guff he wanted you to get worked up about and think over. Why, if I ’d been what I look like to him, he’d have had my pile long ago, and he wouldn’t be loafing round here any more.” “What do you think you look like to him?” his host inquired. “I look as if I’d eat out of his hand,” Tembarom answered, quite unbiased by any touch of wounded vanity. “Why shouldn’t I? And I’m not trying to wake him up, either. I like to look that way to him and to his sort. It gives me a chance to watch and get wise to things. He’s a high-school education in himself. I like to hear him talk. I asked him to come and stay at the house so that I could hear him talk.” “Did he introduce the mammoth mines in his first call?” the duke inquired. “Oh, I don’t mean that kind of talk. I didn’t know how much good I was going to get out of him at first. But he was the kind I hadn’t known, and it seemed like he was part of the whole thing--like the girls with title that Ann said I must get next to. And an easy way of getting next to the man kind was to let him come and stay. He wanted to, all right. I guess that’s the way he lives when he’s down on his luck, getting invited to stay at places. Like Lady Mallowe,” he added, quite without prejudice. “You do sum them up, don’t you?” smiled the duke. “Well, I don’t see how I could help it,” he said impartially. “They’re printed in sixty-four-point black-face, seems to me.” “What is that?” the duke inquired with interest. He thought it might be a new and desirable bit of slang. “I don’t know that one.” “Biggest type there is,” grinned Tembarom. “It’s the kind that’s used for head-lines. That’s newspaper-office talk.” “Ah, technical, I see. Well, you are not printed in sixty-four-point black-face so far as they are concerned. They don’t find themselves able to sum you up. That fact is one of my recreations.” “I’ll tell you why,” Tembarom explained with his clearly unprejudiced air. “There’s nothing much about me to sum up, anyhow. I’m too sort of plain sailing and ordinary. I’m not making for anywhere they’d think I’d want to go. I’m not hiding anything they’d be sure I’d want to hide.” “By the Lord! you’re not!” exclaimed the duke.