"It is not wise," he commented.

"My father was a soldier," she replied.

"It isn't a question of bravery," he replied, a bit of color charging
under his skin.

Elsa was amused. "And, pray, what question is it?" He was like a boy.

"I'm afraid of making myself obscure. This world is not like your
world. Women over here. . . Oh, I've lost the art of saying things
clearly." He pulled at his beard embarrassedly.

"I rather believe I understand you. The veneer cracks easily in hot
climates; man's veneer."

"And falls off altogether."

"Are you warning me against yourself?"

"Why not? Twenty thousand pounds do not change a man; they merely
change the public's opinion of him. For all you know, I may be the
greatest rascal unhanged."

"But you are not."

He recognized that it was not a query; and a pleasurable thrill ran
over him. Had there been the least touch of condescension in her
manner, he would have gone deep into his shell.