"'Me!--what rot! You've got a chair under you now that will sell for more money than I see in a year.' "'Yes--and nobody to sit in it; not a man who knows me or wants to know me.' "'But why did you pick me out?' "'Because you seemed to be the kind of a man who would understand me best. I watched you for weeks, though you didn't know it. You've got people who love you for yourself. You go into Florian's or the Quadri and you can't get a chance to swallow a mouthful for fellows who want to shake hands with you and slap you on the back. When I saw that, I got up courage enough to speak to you. "'When that first night you wouldn't introduce me to your friend Roscoff, I saw how it was and how you suspected me, and I came near giving it up. Then I thought I'd try again, and if you hadn't introduced Mr. Cruthers to me, and if he hadn't drank my wine, I would have given it up. But I don't want them to like me because I'm with _you_. I want them to like me for myself, so they'll be glad to see me when I come in, just as they are glad to see you. "'I come from Pennsylvania. My father owns the oil-wells at Stockville. He came over from Holland when he was a boy. He sent me over here six months ago to learn something about the world, and told me not to come back till I did. I got to Paris, and I couldn't find a soul to talk to but the hotel porter; then I kept on to Lucerne, and it was no better there. When I got as far as Dresden I mustered up courage to speak to a man in the station, but he moved off, and I saw him afterward speaking to a policeman and pointing to me. Then I came on down here. I thought maybe if I got some good rooms to live in where people could be comfortable, I could get somebody to come in and sit down. So I bought this lot of truck of an Italian named Almadi--a prince or something--and moved in. I tried the fellows who lived here--you saw them sticking their heads out as we came up--but they don't speak English, so I was as bad off as I was before. Then I made up my mind I'd tackle you and keep at it till I got to know you. You might think it queer now that I didn't tell you before who I was or how I came here, or how lonesome I was--just lonesome--but I just couldn't. I didn't want your pity, I wanted your _friendship_. That's all.' "He had straightened up now, and was leaning back in his chair. "'And it was just dead lonesomeness, then, was it?' and I held out my hand to him. "'Yes--the deadliest kind of lonesome. Kind makes you want to fall off a dock. Now, please drink my wine'--and he pushed the bottle toward me--'I had a devil of a hunt for it, but I wanted to do something for you you couldn't do for yourself.'