"Oh, it would be all well enough if one were the eldest brother, and had the money, and all that. I should like to be the Duke, I dare say, well enough. But I can't be that, and I've been very happy hunting buffaloes for months together, and no one but an old Indian to speak to. I don't disgrace the Duke's family name, for I've dropped it, nor any courtesy title, for I don't use any. I believe they have forgotten me altogether in Keeton. Miss Grey tells me so." "Excuse me," Minola said. "I didn't say that, for I didn't know. I only said I didn't remember hearing of you by your present name; but I didn't know any of the family at the Castle. We belonged to the townspeople, and were not likely to have much acquaintance with the Castle." "Except at election time--I know," St. Paul said with a laugh. "Well, I'm worse off now, for they won't know _me_ even at election time." Then the talk went off again under St. Paul's leadership, and almost by his sole effort, to his adventurous life, and he told many stories of fights with Indians, of vigilance committees, of men hanged for horse-stealing, and of broken-down English scamps, who either got killed or made their fortune out West. A cool contempt for human life was made specially evident. "I like a place," the narrator more than once observed, "where you can kill a man if you want to and no bother about it." Perhaps still more evident was the contempt for every principle but that of comradeship. After dinner Mr. St. Paul only showed himself in the drawing-room for a moment or two, and then took his leave. "Papa," Lucy said instantly, "do tell us all about Mr. St. Paul." "Are you curious to know something about him, Miss Grey?" Money asked. "Well, he certainly seems to be an odd sort of person. He is so little like what I should imagine a pirate of romance." "Not a bad hit. He is a sort of pirate out of date. But he represents, with a little exaggeration, a certain tendency among younger sons to-day. Some younger sons, you know, are going into trade; some are working at the bar, or becoming professional journalists; some are rearing sheep in Australia, and cattle in Kansas and Texas. It's a phase of civilization worth observing, Miss Grey, to you who go in for being a sort of little philosopher." "Dear papa, how can you say so? Nola does not go in for being anything so dry and dreadful." "The tendencies of an aristocracy must always interest a thoughtful mind like Miss Grey's, Lucy," Mrs. Money said gravely. "There is at least something hopeful in the mingling of classes." "In young swells becoming drovers and rowdies?" Money observed. "Hum! Well, as to that----" and he stopped. "I think I am a little interested in him," Minola said; "but only personally, not philosophically."