At first Strelsa found the young fellow fascinating. He had been everywhere and had seen everything; his mind was kaleidoscopic; his thought shifted, flashed, jerked, leaped like erratic lightning from one subject to another--from Japanese aeroplanes to a scheme for filling in the East River; from a plan to reconcile church and state in France to an idea for indefinitely prolonging human life. He had written several books about all kinds of things. Nobody read them. The first time he spoke to her of love was on a magnificent star-set night off Martinique; and she coolly reminded him of the gossip connecting him with a pretty woman in Reno. She could not have done it a month ago. He denied it so pleasantly, so frankly, that, astonished, she could scarcely choose but believe him. After that he made ardent, headlong love to her at every opportunity, with a flighty recklessness which began by amusing her. At first, also, she found wholesome laughter a good defence; but there was an under-current of intelligent, relentless vigour in his attack which presently sobered her. And she vaguely realised that he was a man who knew what he wanted. A talk with Molly Wycherly sobered her still more; and she avoided him as politely as she could. But, being her host, it was impossible to keep clear of him. Besides there was about him a certain unwholesome fascination, even for her. No matter how bad a man's record may be, few women doubt their ability to make it a better one. "You little goose," said Molly Wycherly, "everybody knows the kind of man he is. Could anything be more brazen than his attentions to you while Mary Ledwith is in Reno?" "He says that her being there has nothing to do with him." "Then he lies," said Molly, shrugging her shoulders. "He doesn't speak as though he were trying to deceive anybody, Molly. He is perfectly frank to me. I can't believe that scandal. Besides he is quite open and manly about his unsavoury reputation; makes no excuses; simply says that there's good in every man, and that there is always one woman in the world who can bring it out----" "Oh, mushy! What an out-of-date whine! He's bad all through I tell you----" "No man is!" insisted Strelsa. "What?" "No man is. The great masters of fiction always ascribe at least one virtue to their most infamous creations----" "Oh, Strelsa, you talk like a pan of fudge! _I_ tell you that Langly Sprowl is no good at all. I hope you won't have to marry him to find out." "I don't intend to.... How inconsistent you are, Molly. You--and everybody else--believe him to be the most magnificent match in----" "If position and wealth is all you care for, yes. I didn't suppose you'd come to that." Strelsa said candidly: "I care for both--I don't know how much." "As much as that?"