a poor devil like me has to be monstrous careful.  Cowrie, of the Carbineers, who has got sixty thousand a year, says that he can’t go to certain houses, for fear they may have a clergyman secreted about the place and will get him spliced to the ugliest daughter before he can escape.  Awfully clever chap, Cowrie,—­a match for any mamma in England, I can tell you.  He is not going to marry any woman but the one he wishes to marry.  No more am I. That’s why I can’t marry.  I’ve got no money.  The governor picked out a young woman from Liverpool for me last year,—­a brewer’s daughter, with pots of it,—­and wanted me to make up to her.”

“Oh, he did!  What did you do about it?” asked Bijou, in a low voice.

“Well, you see, just then I was most awfully hard up, and couldn’t afford to break with the governor; and so—­”

“I’d be ashamed to say any more about it.  Addressing a girl just for her money!” interjected Bijou warmly, disappointed that he had not scorned the proposition utterly.

“It didn’t go that far.  I thought it might be a good thing, you know.  And so I tried it,—­spooning, you know,” said he placidly.

“Oh, indeed!” commented Bijou sarcastically.  “Very honorable of you, I am sure, and delightful for the girl to have such a disinterested admirer.  How did it end?”

“How you do pick,a fellow up!” remonstrated Mr. Ramsay amiably.  “It sounds awfully conceited to say so, of course, but I think I could have carried off the cup if I had liked.  At least every one said she was hard hit.  And she wasn’t long in the tooth, or very ugly, or vulgar, or anything; but somehow I couldn’t stand it.  I got to hate her.  She breathed so hard when she danced, for one thing.  Regular grampus.  Upon my word, she almost blew my gibus away from under my arm sometimes.  Regular snorts.  And then she was always smilin’.  And she talked an awful lot about Goethe and Schiller, and those chaps.  Altogether, I cried off, and told the governor I would try the Colonies.  And he told me that if I was such a consummate ass as to let a good thing like that slip, I could take my little pittance and go to the deuce as soon as ever I liked; and here I am.  Some may think I acted foolishly, but one’s relatives are not always the best judges of what is good for one, you know, though they may think they are actin’ for one’s good; and what one wants to do is to do one’s best in whatever position one finds one’s self in, you know, no matter what one—­Hang it all!  I know what I want to say, but I can’t say it.  You understand, I fancy, without me tryin’ to explain.”