“No; Naida was a sister; a good deal older and--But we are drifting away from business. Will you accept my proposition to be my--er--adviser in certain matters on which I think you are qualified to give advice, and accept twenty-five thousand dollars a year?” “Do you mind if I speak frankly?” “Certainly not. Speak ahead.” “Are you offering me this--er--salary when, of course, I know I am not worth a da--a cent in business; I mean, isn't it really in exchange for what I may be able to do for you in a--a social way? You know what I mean.” “No, sir!” said Jerningham, decisively. “Not for an instant! I do not, dear Mr. Wolfe, give an infinitesimal damn for what is called society.” “But I thought Jimmy Parkhurst told me--” “I cannot help what Jimmy Parkhurst told you; but I tell you that I like interesting people, and I don't care who or what they are socially. I hate bores--whether they are hod-carriers or dukes. If I can meet people who will instruct me when I want to learn, or amuse me when I want to laugh, I'm satisfied. And I can always meet that kind without anybody's help. You know how it is.” Then he spoke perhaps thirty words in a foreign language that Frank thought must be Hungarian. “You remember your Latin, of course. That's from Petronius.” “I thought so!” said Frank Wolfe, the pet of the chorus-girls, laughing to himself. Remember his Latin! He? Haw! “It is from his 'Cena Trimalchionis.' The _arbiter elegantiarum_ knew what social climbers might be expected to do, though I neither boast of my money nor do I eat with my knife. The Latin of the 'Cena' is difficult--too slangy, full of the _sermo plebeius_.” “Yes, it is,” agreed Frank, so gravely that it was all he could do to keep from laughing at himself. This Klondiker was not only a gun-fighter and richer than Croesus, but also a highbrow! Could you beat it? “Will you accept my offer? Will you try to be my friend?” “Suppose I find I can't?” “I'll be sorry. The money is nothing. The inability to make a friend will be my real loss.” “Well, we might try six months.” He looked inquiringly at Jerningham. “I don't exactly know what you wish me to do.” “Become my friend! You yourself said some things cannot be done for money by a gentleman; but there is nothing--so long as it is not dishonorable--that a gentleman may not do for a friend. Shall I explain a little more?” He looked anxiously at young Mr. Wolfe. “Yes--do,” said Frank. It occurred to him that this singular man was in reality proceeding with a curious delicacy. “Just as soon as you feel you know me I will ask you to help me. Mrs. Deering is now abroad. Mrs. Welles may be of help to us. Mr. Wolfe, now that I am not so poor as I was, I want to find Naida Deering, the only woman I ever loved--and, God help me, the only woman I still love!”