I thought that Molly might laugh, but instead she looked abnormally
grave. "Jack told me," she said, "how, when you and he came over to
America, six or seven years ago, to shoot big game, you avoided girls,
for fear people might suppose your alleged bear hunt was really an
heiress hunt. I forgive Jack, because that was in the dark ages,
before he knew there was a Me. But why should a girl be shunned by
nice men solely because she's an heiress? Can't she be as pretty and
lovable in herself as a poor girl?"

"She can," I replied, emphasising my words with a look in Molly's
face. "No doubt she often is. But I do wish some American girls who
marry men from our side of the water wouldn't let the papers advertise
their weddings as 'functions' (sounds like obscure workings of
physical organs), attended by the families of their exclusive
acquaintance, worth, when lumped together, a billion of dollars or
so."

"I know. It's as if they were prize pigs at a fair, and were of no
importance except for their dollars," sighed Molly. "And then, the
detectives to watch the presents! It's disgusting. But some of our
newspapers are like Mr. Hyde. Poor Dr. Jekyll can't do anything with
him; and anyhow, you needn't think we're all like that. I have a
friend who is one of the greatest heiresses in America, but she hates
her money. It has made her very unhappy, though she's only twenty-one
years old. If you could see Mercédès, with her lovely, strange sad
face, and big, wistful eyes----"

"I can think of Mercédès only with a shiny grey body, upholstered
crimson; and for eyes, huge acetylene lamps," I was rude enough to
break in; for I fancied that I saw what Mistress Molly would fain be