crimson from the heat; like the others she had a wet handkerchief on her
head. "There is not a grain of romance in one of them," she announced.
"Curious that the sons of the rich nearly always have round faces,
no particular features, and a tendency to bulge. I intend to have a
romance--old style--good old style--before the vogue of the middle-class
realists. There's nothing in life but youth and you only have it once.
I'm going to have a romance that means falling wildly, unreasonably,
uncalculatingly in love."

"You anticipate my adjectives," said Aileen drily. "Although not all. But
let that pass. I'd like to know where you expect to find the opposite
lead, as they say on the stage. Our men are not such a bad sort, even the
richest--with a few exceptions, of course. They may hit it up at week-ends,
generally at the country clubs, but they're better than the last generation
because their fathers have more sense. I'll bet they're all down there now
fighting the fire with the vim of their grandfathers....But romantic! Good
Lord! I'll marry one of them all right and glad of the chance--after I've
had my fling. I'm in no hurry. I'd have outgrown my illusions in any case
by that time, only Nature did the trick by not giving me any."

"Don't you believe there isn't a man in all San Francisco able to inspire
romance." If Alexina could not blush her dark gray eyes could sparkle and
melt. "All the men we meet don't belong to that rich group."

"Bunch, darling. Where--will you give us the pointer?--are to be found the
romantic knights of San Francisco? 'Frisco as those tiresome Eastern people
call it. Makes me sick to think that they are even now pitying 'poor
'Frisco.' "Well?--I could beat my brains and not call one to mind."

"Oh!"