Denby laughed. “I’ll bet you know less about it than I do.” The idea of Monty Vaughan, heir to the Vaughan millions, working like a clerk in the Crédit Lyonnais was amusing. “Does your father make you work all summer?” he demanded. “I’m not working now,” Monty explained. “I never do unless I feel like it. I’m waiting for a friend who is sailing with me on the Mauretania next week and I’ve just had a wire to say she’ll be here to-morrow.” “She!” echoed Denby. “Have you married without my knowledge or consent? Or is this a honey-moon trip you are taking?” A look of sadness came into the younger man’s face. “I shall never marry,” he returned. But Steven Denby knew him too well to take such expressions of gloom as final. “Nonsense,” he cried. “You are just the sort they like. You’re inclined to believe in people too much if you like them, and a husband who believes in his wife as you will in yours is a treasure. They’ll fight for you, Monty, when you get home again. For all you know the trap is already baited.” “Trap!” Monty cried reproachfully. “I’ve been trying to make a girl catch me for three years now and she won’t.” “Do you mean you’ve been finally turned down?” Steven Denby asked curiously. It was difficult to suppose that a man of his friend’s wealth and standing would experience much trouble in offering heart and fortune. “I haven’t asked yet,” Monty admitted. “I’ve been on the verge of it hundreds of times, but she always laughs as I’m coming around to it, and someone comes in or something happens and I’ve never done it.” He sighed with the deprecating manner of the devout lover. “If you’d only seen her, Steve, you’d see what mighty little chance I stood. I feel it’s a bit of impertinence to ask a girl like that to marry me.” Steven patted him on the arm. “You’re just the same,” he said, “exactly the silly old Monty I used to know. Next time you see your charmer, risk being impertinent and ask her to marry you. Women hate modesty nowadays. It’s just a confession of failure and we’re all hitched up to success. I don’t know the girl you are speaking of but when you get home again instead of declaring your great unworthiness, tell her you’ve left Paris and its pleasures simply to marry her. Say that the Bourse begged you to remain and guide the nation through a financial panic, but you left them weeping and flew back on a fast Cunarder.” “I believe you are right,” Monty said. “I’ll do it. I ought to have done it years ago. Alice is frightfully disappointed with me.” “Who is Alice?” the other demanded. “The lady you’re crossing with on the Mauretania?” “Yes,” said Monty. “A good pal of mine; one of those up-to-date women of the world who know what to do and say at the right moment. She’s a sort of elder sister to me. You’ll like her, Steve.” Denby doubted it but pursued the subject no further. He conceived Alice to be one of those capable managing women who do so much good in the world and give so little pleasure.