“You haven't any friends,” she said softly, “nor any education, but you are a millionaire! That is quite sufficient. You are a veritable Caesar with undiscovered worlds before you.” “I wish I knew what you meant,” he said, with some hesitation. She laughed softly. “Don't you understand,” she said, “that you are the fashion? Last year it was Indian Potentates, the year before it was actors, this year it is millionaires. You have only to announce yourself and you may take any place you choose in society. You have arrived at the most auspicious moment. I can assure you that before many months are past you will know more people than ever you have spoken to in your life before--men whose names have been household words to you and nothing else will be calling you 'old chap' and wanting to sell you horses, and women, who last week would look at you through lorgnettes as though you were a denizen of some unknown world, will be lavishing upon you their choicest smiles and whispering in your ear their 'not at home' afternoon. Oh, it's lucky I'm able to prepare you a little for it, or you would be taken quite by storm.” He was unmoved. He looked at her with a grim tightening of the lips. “I want to ask you this,” he said. “What should I be the better for it all? What use have I for friends who only gather round me because I am rich? Shouldn't I be better off to have nothing to do with them, to live my own life, and make my own pleasures?” She shrugged her shoulders. “These people,” she said, “of whom I have been speaking are masters of the situation. You can't enjoy money alone! You want to race, hunt, entertain, shoot, join in the revels of country houses! You must be one of them or you can enjoy nothing.” Monty's words were ringing back in his ears. After all, pleasures could be bought--but happiness! “And you,” he said, “you too think that these things you have mentioned are the things most to be desired in life?” A certain restraint crept into her manner. “Yes,” she answered simply. “I have been told,” he said, “that you have given up these things to live your life differently. That you choose to be a worker. You have rich relations--you could be rich yourself!” She looked him steadily in the face. “You are wrong,” she said, “I have no money. I have not chosen a profession willingly--only because I am poor!” “Ah!” The monosyllable was mysterious to her. But for the wild improbability of the thing she would have wondered whether indeed he knew her secret. She brushed the idea away. It was impossible. “At least,” he said, “you belong to these people.” “Yes,” she answered, “I am one of the poor young women of society.” “And you would like,” he continued, “to be one of the rich ones--to take your place amongst them on equal terms. That is what you are looking forward to in life!” She laughed gaily.