"Well--every man has a right to his own notion of what's honest," he said.
"But no man's got a right to complain if a fellow with a different notion
criticizes him."

"None in the world," I assented. "Do _you_ criticize me?"

"No, no, no, indeed!" he answered, nervous, and taking seriously what I had
intended as a joke.

After a while I dragged in _the_ subject. "One thing I can and will
do to get myself in line for that club," I said, like a seal on promenade.
"I'm sick of the crowd I travel with--the men and the women. I feel it's
about time I settled down. I've got a fortune and establishment that needs
a woman to set it off. I can make some woman happy. You don't happen to
know any nice girls--the right sort, I mean?"

"Not many." said Sam. "You'd better go back to the country where you came
from, and get her there. She'd be eternally grateful, and her head wouldn't
be full of mercenary nonsense."

"Excuse me!" exclaimed I. "It'd turn her head. She'd go clean crazy. She'd
plunge in up to her neck--and not being used to these waters, she'd make
a show of herself, and probably drown, dragging me down with her, if
possible."

Sam laughed. "Keep out of marriage, Matt," he advised, not so obtuse to my
real point as he wanted me to believe. "I know the kind of girl you've got
in mind. She'd marry you for your money, and she'd never appreciate you.
She'd see in you only the lack of the things she's been taught to lay