"Then it is not yet a betrothal?"

"Not yet. Mrs. Landry told me that Alice had liked him well
enough to promise she'd give him her answer before she sailed,
and that it was going to be yes. She herself said it was almost
settled. That was just her way of breaking it to me, I fear."

"You have given up, my friend?"

"What else can I do? I can't go on following her, keeping up
this play at second cousin, and she won't have anything else.
Ever since I grew up she's been rather sorrowful over me because
I didn't do anything but try to amuse myself--that was one of
the reasons she couldn't care for me, she said, when I asked
her. Now this fellow wins, who hasn't done anything either,
except his one campaign. It's not that I ought to have her, but
while I suppose it's a real fascination, I'm afraid there's a
little glitter about being a princess. Even the best of our
girls haven't got over that yet. Ah, well, about me she's right.
I've been a pretty worthless sort. She's right. I've thought it
all over. Three days before they sail we'll go down to Naples
and hear the last word, and whatever it is we'll see them off on
the 'Princess Irene.' Then you and I'll come north and sail by
the first boat from Cherbourg.

"I--I?" I stammered.

"Yes," he said. "I'm going to make the aged parent shout with
unmanly glee. I'm going to ask him to take me on as a hand.
He'll take you, too. He uses something like a thousand Italians,