"What else should he be after? The woman? There are thousands of women,--all to be had for the asking--they pitch themselves at men headlong--no hesitation or modesty about them nowadays! Jack's asking would never have been refused by any one of them. But the millions of Morgana Royal are not to be got every day!" Miss Herbert's rather thin lips tightened into a close line,--she flicked some light tear-drops away from her eyes with a handkerchief as fine as a cobweb delicately perfumed, and stood silently looking out on the view from the verandah. "You see," pursued Gwent, in his cold, deliberate accents, "Jack was ruined financially. And he has all but ruined ME. Now he has taken himself out of the way with a pistol shot, and left me to face the music for him. Morgana Royal was his only chance. She led him on,--she certainly led him on. He thought he had her,--then--just as he was about to pin the butterfly to his specimen card, away it flew!" "Cute butterfly!" interjected Miss Herbert. "Maybe. Maybe not. We shall see. Anyway Jack's game is finished." "And I suppose this is why, as you say, Morgana has gone off 'in the midst of many social duties'? Was Jack one of her social duties?" Gwent gazed at her with an unrevealing placidity. "No. Not exactly," he replied--"I give her credit for not knowing anything of his intention to clear out. Though I don't think she would have tried to alter his intention if she had." Miss Herbert still surveyed the scenery. "Well,--I don't feel so sorry for him now you tell me it was only the money he was after"--she said--"I thought he was a finer character--" "You're talking 'Middle Ages' again,"--interrupted Gwent--"Who wants fine characters nowadays? The object of life is to LIVE, isn't it? And to 'live' means to get all you can for your own pleasure and profit,--take care of Number One!--and let the rest of the world do as it likes. It's quite YOUR method,--though you pretend it isn't!" "You're not very polite!" she said. "Now, why should I be?" he pursued, argumentatively--"What's politeness worth unless you want to flatter something for yourself out of somebody? I never flatter, and I'm never polite. I know just how you feel,--you haven't got as much money as you want and you're looking about for a fellow who HAS. Then you'll marry him--if you can. You, as a woman, are doing just what Jack did as a man. But,--if you miss your game, I don't think you'll commit suicide. You're too well-balanced for that. And I think you'll succeed in your aims--if you're careful!" "If I'm careful?" she echoed, questioningly. "Yes--if you want a millionaire. Especially the old rascal you're after. Don't dress too 'loud.' Don't show ALL your back--leave some for him to think about. Don't paint your face,--let it alone. And be, or pretend to be, very considerate of folks' feelings. That'll do!" "Here endeth the first lesson!" she said. "Thanks, preacher Gwent! I guess I'll worry through!"