be influenced by the fact that Mademoiselle distrusts me."
"What makes you think so?"
"Well, she does, Pat—as you must know. If it weren't so damned nosy of me, I'd ask you to make a compact."
Pat waited.
"That you refrain from making any definite arrangements towards getting married till I prove Mademoiselle's distrust of my capacities unfounded. Give me time to do that, then I'll have a better right to butt into your private affairs."
Pat reflected deeply. His irritability had gone, and a depression quite foreign to him taken its place. "Done!" he finally surprised Paul by announcing.
As Paul was leaving the room, Pat made a further admission. "I've been awful lonesome in this burg." Then with a whimsical, lugubrious humour he added, "I had to propose to somebody, didn't I?"
Paul just prevented himself from saying, "And Mademoiselle saw to it that she was the somebody." He waited silently for more, and Pat, holding open the door, went on:
"Do you think you can stay in with that crowd?"
"The Shrotons? I have no such intention. From them I'm going on to the really useful nabobs—the commercial ones—the Jews and the Beys and the Pashas."
"How for the love of Mike?"
"I don't know."
"It's easier said than done, believe me!"
"Of course—otherwise it wouldn't be worth attempting."
"You're ambitious too."
"In a quixotic way."
"Listen here, sonny, do you realize what makin' up to frivolous women involves?'
