“Now you are laughing at me,” she declared. “I mean men like that Mr. Wingrave, the American who has come to England to spend all his millions. I have just been reading about him,” she added, pointing to an illustrated paper on the table. “They say that his income is too vast to be put into figures which would sound reasonable; that he has estates and shooting properties, and a yacht which he has never yet even seen. And yet he will not give one penny away. He gives nothing to the hospitals, nothing to the poor. He spends his money on himself, and himself alone!” Wingrave smiled grimly. “I am not prepared to defend my namesake,” he said; “but every man has a right to do what he likes with his own, hasn’t he? And as for hospitals, Mr. Wingrave probably thinks, like a good many more, that they should be state endowed. People could make use of them, then, without loss of self respect.” She shook her head a little doubtfully. “I can’t argue about it yet,” she said, “because I haven’t thought about it long enough. But I know if I had all the money this man has, I couldn’t be happy to spend thousands and thousands upon myself while there were people almost starving in the same city.” “You are a sentimentalist, you see,” he remarked, “and you have not studied the laws on which society is based. Tell me, how does Mrs. Tresfarwin like London?” Juliet laughed merrily. “Isn’t it amusing?” she declared. “She loves it! She grumbles at the milk, and we have the butter from Tredowen. Everything else she finds perfection. She doesn’t even mind the five flights of stone steps.” “Social problems,” Wingrave remarked, “do not trouble her.” “Not in the least,” Juliet declared. “She spends all her pennies on beggars and omnibus rides, and she is perfectly happy.” Wingrave rose to go in a few minutes. Juliet walked with him to the door. “I am going to be really hospitable,” she declared. “I am going to walk with you to the street.” “All down those five flights?” he exclaimed. “Every one of them!” They commenced the descent. “There is something about a flat,” she declared, “which makes one horribly curious about one’s neighbors--especially if one has never had any. All these closed doors may hide no end of interesting people, and I have never seen a soul go in or out. How did you like all this climbing?” “I’m afraid I didn’t appreciate it,” he admitted. “Perhaps you won’t come to see me again, then?” she asked. “I hope you will.” “I will come,” he said a little stiffly, “with pleasure!” They were on the ground floor, and Juliet opened the door. Wingrave’s motor was outside, and the man touched his hat. She gave a little breathless cry. “It isn’t yours?” she exclaimed. “Certainly,” he answered. “Do you want to come and look at it?” “Rather!” she exclaimed. “I have never seen one close to in my life.” He hesitated. “I’ll take you a little way, if you like,” he said. Her cheeks were pink with excitement.