The Boy straightened his shoulders, after a slight start of surprise, and seemed to pull himself together. For a moment he was silent, as we walked on under the close-growing plane trees which lined the long, straight road to the Grand Port. Then at last he said, "You wouldn't." "How can you tell that?" "Because--she isn't--your style." "You don't know my 'style' of girl." "Oh, yes, I do. Don't you remember a talk we had, the first day we were friends? We told each other a lot of things. I can see that girl; the girl who--who----" "Jilted me," I supplied. "Don't hesitate to call a spade a spade." "A lovely, angelic-looking creature, typically English; golden hair; skin like cream and roses." "The type has palled upon me," said I. "I know now that Molly Winston--my friend's wife--was right. I never really loved that girl. It was her popularity and my own vanity that I was in love with." "Are you sure?" "As sure as that I'm starving for my breakfast. If the young lady--she's married now, and I wish her all happiness--should appear before me at the end of this street, and sob out a confession of repentance for the past, it wouldn't in the least affect my appetite. I should tell her not to mind, and hurry on to join you at the corner." "You would have forgotten by that time that there was a Me." "I can't think of anyone or anything at the moment which would make me forget that," said I. "The Contessa?" "Not she, nor any other pretty doll." "An earthquake, then?" "Nor an earthquake: for I should probably occupy myself in trying to save your life. To tell the honest truth, Little Pal, you've become a confirmed habit with me, and I confess that the thought of finishing this tramp without you gave me a distinct shock, when you flung it at my head. If you were open to the idea of adoption, I think I should have to adopt you, you know: for, now that I've got used to seeing you about, it seems to me that, as certain advertisements say of the articles they recommend, no home would be complete without you. But there's your sister; she would object to annexation." The Boy was busily kicking fallen leaves as he walked. "You might ask her--if you should ever see each other." "Make her meet you at Monte Carlo, and introduce us there. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give a dinner at the Hôtel de Paris--the night after we arrive. It shall be in your hands, and of course your sister's, who ought to know your pal. You must try hard to get her to come. Is it a bargain?" "I can't answer for her." "But I only ask you to try your hardest. Come now, when I've told you about last night, you'll say I deserve a reward." "Yes, I'll try." "But, by Jove, I'd forgotten that your sister is an heiress," I went on. "I've vowed not to fall in love with a girl who has a lot of money." "I told you that you wouldn't fall in love with her." "Is she like you?"