"Before you? There's a woman. You're not satisfied when a man fights all the devil in himself for you, but you must rub it into him while he's doing it. Maurice--or maybe you don't understand. You could say things like that to a dog--if a dog could understand--and he'd come back and lick your hand. Maurice has blood and fire in him. And here's a woman--whatever else she is--is warm-blooded too. She wants Maurice, and, by God, she'll get him if you keep on. Do you remember the night of the Master Mariners' ball--the night before we sailed on the Southern cruise? Well, that night this woman, she waits for Maurice and stops him on his way home. But she didn't get him. He was up in the wind for a minute or two, but one spoke of the wheel and he found his head again. Again last June in Newport on a warm summer's night--flowers, music, wine--the cabin of a beautiful yacht--she asks him to wait over a day or two in Newport harbor. Does he? Does he? Not Maurice. With never a touch of the wheel, off he swings and drives for home. And why didn't he stay? Why, do you suppose? Didn't he tell you a while ago? Good God! Look here--you're no fool. Look at me--ten years ago I was another Maurice. And this woman--I tell you she knows men. She don't care whether a man is rich or poor, tall or short, thin or fat, so long as she likes him. And I tell you she loves Maurice--as well as she can love--and she's not a good enough woman--there it is. And they're all saying you're likely to marry Withrow. Wait now. Withrow, I'm telling you, isn't fit to wash the gurry off Maurice's jack-boots. I'm a careless man, Miss Foster, and in my life I've done things I wish now I hadn't, but I draw the line above the head of a man like Withrow. Whatever I am, I'm too good to be company for Fred Withrow. And on top of all that he's so carried away with this other woman--this same woman--and she caring more for Maurice's eyelash than Withrow's whole two hundred and ten pounds--Withrow is so carried away with her that he is ready to elope with her--elope with her! I know that--never mind how. Bring Withrow and me together, and I'll tell him--tell him, yes, and throw him through the door afterward if he denies it. This woman is enough of a woman to want Maurice--Maurice with nothing at all--before Withrow with all he's got and all he can get her or give her--and she's clever enough to come pretty near getting what she wants. And now, Miss Foster, suppose you think it over. I'm going to hunt up Maurice, though I'm not too sure we'll find him in a hurry. Good-by." He swept his sou'wester wide to her and went out the door. I said good-by without looking at her. I was too ashamed--and went after Clancy. But I think she was crying to herself as I went out. XXXVI MAURICE BLAKE IS RECALLED