the sake of the former.

My pretty sister-in-law's interest in my affairs always made me
believe that she secretly worshiped me--although it was a fact, as
will be seen in the progress of this story, that most women blushed
on my addressing them. I used to say it "was the reflection of my
red hair on a transparent complexion," which was rather neat--
wasn't it? And subtle? But then, I was always saying such subtle
things.

"My dear Rose," I said, laying down my egg spoon (the egg spoon
really had nothing to do with this speech, but it imparted such a
delightfully realistic flavor to the scene), "I'm not to blame if I
resemble the S'helpburgs."

"It's your being so beastly proud of it that I object to!" she
replied. "And for Heaven's sake, try to BE something, and not
merely resemble things! The fact is you resemble too much--you're
ALWAYS resembling. You resemble a man of fashion, and you're not;
a wit, and you're not; a soldier, a sportsman, a hero--and you're
none of 'em. Altogether, you're not in the least convincing. Now,
listen! There's a good chance for you to go as our attache with
Lord Mumblepeg, the new Ambassador to Cochin China. In all the
novels, you know, attaches are always the confidants of Grand
Duchesses, and know more state secrets than their chiefs; in real
life, I believe they are something like a city clerk with a leaning
to private theatricals. Say you'll go! Do!"

"I'll take a few months' holiday first," I replied, "and then," I
added in my gay, dashing way, "if the place is open--hang it if I