“That means as you ain’t worked at all, I guess.  Hm!” said Mrs. Trapes, viewing him with her sharp, hawk’s eye, “and yet you ain’t got the look of a confidence man nor yet a swell crook, consequently I take it you was the only son of your father an’ lost all he left you, eh?”

“Mrs. Trapes, you are a truly wonderful woman!”

“T’ be born the only son of a rich father is a pretty bad disease, I reckon!” she continued, “yes, siree, it’s bad for the child an’ worse for the man; it’s bound to be his ruination in the end—­like drink!  And talkin’ o’ drink, I’m glad to see that b’y Arthur’s so fond o’ you.”

“Oh, why?”

“Because you don’t drink.”

“Well, I don’t go to bed in my boots, do I, Mrs. Trapes?  But then I promised you I wouldn’t, and, for another thing, I’m not a poet, you see,” said he and yawned lazily.

“Hermy says she’s glad too.”

Mr. Ravenslee cut short his yawn in the middle.

“Hermione?  Did she say so?  When?”

“Ah, I guessed that would wake ye up a bit!” said Mrs. Trapes, noting his suddenly eager look.  “It’s a pity you’re so poor, ain’t it?”

“Why?  What do you mean?”

“I mean if you had been in a good situation an’ making good money—­twenty-five per, say—­you might have asked her.”

“Asked her?” repeated Ravenslee, staring, “asked her what?”

“Why, t’ marry you, o’ course,” nodded Mrs. Trapes.  “You love her about as much as any man can love—­which is sometimes a thimbleful an’ sometimes a bit more—­but you sure love her as much as a man knows how, I guess.  An’ don’t try for ter deny it, Mr. Geoffrey, I ain’t blind, leastways I can see a bit out o’ one eye sometimes—­specially where Hermy’s concerned, I can so.  Of course, you ain’t worthy of her—­but then no man is, to my mind!”

“No, I’m not worthy of her, God knows!” said Ravenslee, quite humbly.

“An’ Hermy’s goin’ to marry a man with money.  Her heart’s set on it—­firm!”

“Money!” said Ravenslee, scowling.  “She seems anything but mercenary.”

“Mercenary!” cried Mrs. Trapes, “I should say not!  I tell ye, she could be a-rollin’ around in a six-thousand-dollar automobile at this very hour if she was that kind.  With her face an’ figure!  She could so!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean as there’s men—­rich men, an’ married too—­as is mad after her—­”

“Ah!” said Ravenslee, frowning again.

“You may well say ‘ah!’” nodded Mrs. Trapes.  “Men is all beasts more or less!  Why, I could tell you things—­well, there!  Hermy ain’t no innocent babe but there’s some things better than innocence an’ that’s a chin—­will-power, Mr. Geoffrey.  If a woman’s sweet an’ strong an’ healthy like Hermy, an’ got a chin—­nothin’ can harm her.  But beauty like hers is a curse to any good woman if she’s poor, beauty being a quick-seller, y’ see!”

“Yes, I see—­I know!” said Ravenslee, clenching his hands and frowning blacker than ever.