grandest lawyers California ever had; and in a way he made himself, though
he came of the best blood we've got." (Nick would not have dreamed of
mentioning that his own blood was as good. He, like most men of the West,
thought more of his horses' pedigree than his own, and he would as readily
have boasted of his handsome looks as of his father's people--the people
who had disowned that father, and sent him to starve. But now he was
boasting of and for California. That was legitimate.) "Falconer's the
wisest and most far-seeing politician we have," he went on, "and deserves
his luck--the money's he's made and the name he's won. He's high up on one
of our biggest railroads, too, since he gave up law because he'd no time
to follow it; and he's not much over forty now. That's California, Mrs.
May. That's typical. Falconer's as different from a rough fellow like me,
as--as I hope I'm different from Sealman."

"You're a loyal friend," Angela said, admiring the fire in his eyes and
the glow on his face as she would have admired an impressionist sketch for
a portrait by Sargent. "Only this man ought to be a fresco," she told
herself as she followed out the picture-simile. "He's too big and spirited
and unconventional to be put into a frame."

"Oh, I'm not a personal friend of Falconer's," Nick hastened to explain.
"Wish I were! I've met him when he's been to the Gaylor ranch--the ranch I
want you to visit. But I expect he'd hardly remember me. And now you see
that I'm not typical, maybe you'll think there's no place for me on your
map. But I have my uses. I'm warranted sure and sound. And wouldn't I just
be ready to die tryin', if you'd let me, to give you the time of your life
in California?"

"I've always heard that Californian men are chivalrous and kind."