Yes, I regret that Miss Light should marry one of these used-up foreigners.  Americans should stand by each other.  If she wanted a brilliant match we could have fixed it for her.  If she wanted a fine fellow—­a fine, sharp, enterprising modern man—­I would have undertaken to find him for her without going out of the city of New York.  And if she wanted a big fortune, I would have found her twenty that she would have had hard work to spend:  money down—­not tied up in fever-stricken lands and worm-eaten villas!  What is the name of the young man?  Prince Castaway, or some such thing!”

It was well for Mr. Leavenworth that he was a voluminous and imperturbable talker; for the current of his eloquence floated him past the short, sharp, startled cry with which Roderick greeted his “conversational trifle.”  The young man stood looking at him with parted lips and an excited eye.

“The position of woman,” Mr. Leavenworth placidly resumed, “is certainly a very degraded one in these countries.  I doubt whether a European princess can command the respect which in our country is exhibited toward the obscurest females.  The civilization of a country should be measured by the deference shown to the weaker sex.  Judged by that standard, where are they, over here?”

Though Mr. Leavenworth had not observed Roderick’s emotion, it was not lost upon Rowland, who was making certain uncomfortable reflections upon it.  He saw that it had instantly become one with the acute irritation produced by the poor gentleman’s oppressive personality, and that an explosion of some sort was imminent.  Mr. Leavenworth, with calm unconsciousness, proceeded to fire the mine.

“And now for our Culture!” he said in the same sonorous tones, demanding with a gesture the unveiling of the figure, which stood somewhat apart, muffled in a great sheet.

Roderick stood looking at him for a moment with concentrated rancor, and then strode to the statue and twitched off the cover.  Mr. Leavenworth settled himself into his chair with an air of flattered proprietorship, and scanned the unfinished image.  “I can conscientiously express myself as gratified with the general conception,” he said.  “The figure has considerable majesty, and the countenance wears a fine, open expression.  The forehead, however, strikes me as not sufficiently intellectual.  In a statue of Culture, you know, that should be the great point.  The eye should instinctively seek the forehead.  Could n’t you heighten it up a little?”

Roderick, for all answer, tossed the sheet back over the statue.  “Oblige me, sir,” he said, “oblige me!  Never mention that thing again.”

“Never mention it?  Why my dear sir”—­

“Never mention it.  It ’s an abomination!”

“An abomination!  My Culture!”

“Yours indeed!” cried Roderick.  “It ’s none of mine.  I disown it.”

“Disown it, if you please,” said Mr. Leavenworth sternly, “but finish it first!”