“Neither are my characters!  I will tell you,” he said, admitting her to his confidence, “I am going to write of the Expatriates—­the people who, to those at home, are always said to be ‘abroad.’  The story from this side of the water is interesting to me.  And the Excelsior is an ideal field for observing them.”

“I see!” Then ingenuously, “Are you really going to put Jack in your book?”

Porter smiled, amused.  “He hardly corresponds to my aimless nomad wandering hither and yon, with neither ambition nor destination!  By the way,” he added abruptly, “what do you think of Jack?  I am not asking this, mind you, just to make conversation, but because I am interested in him as a national type.  I confess I was beginning to think that no woman could care for the men at home as any woman might for the Europeans, until he came along the other day.”  There was no doubting Porter’s enthusiasm as he added, “He gave me back my ideals of my own country!  He is real, I tell you.  But this trip he is going to take into Sicily——­”

“There is no danger in this day, surely!” she interrupted.

“I am not so sure of it, they are pesky devils!” Then, appreciating her uneasiness, he tried to reassure her.  “Jack will be all right, he will be well protected.  In fact, to show you how little I really fear from the adventure, I am thinking of going with him.  My work is getting stale, and a week or two of change of scene would set me up.”

“I don’t see that your going proves there is no danger.  I should never imagine you the type of a coward.”

Porter laughed.  “Thank you for your good opinion of my type.  But I am not at all certain about it myself.  If I thought I was going to run any risk of being stabbed in the ribs, or riddled with bullets, I assure you I would preserve my skin very carefully by staying right here.  But to go back to John:  Did you ever study physiognomy?” He glanced across at Derby as he spoke.

Nina’s lips broke into a smile, as she answered, “No.  Did you?”

“Yes.  I studied that, and palmistry, and graphology, too.  Look at John—­he has a remarkably interesting head and hand.  You are quite wrong,” he answered an interjection of Nina’s, “his hands are far from ugly!  Spatulate fingers show invention and energy.  Just look at his thumb!  Did you ever see such cool-headed logic or a better balanced will?  Why, all in all, I consider him the best-looking man I know!  There are plenty with better features, no doubt, but if I’d had my choice as to looks, I should have been his twin.”

Nina laughed joyously.  “Do you mean it?” It sounded incredible to her, yet she felt strangely pleased—­she looked at John from a new point of view.  “I think he has a great many good points; there is something strong and admirable about him, but good-looking—­never!  His features are too uneven, too big-boned.”

“Just like a woman!” exclaimed Porter testily.  “I suppose you think that apology on your other side a beau ideal!”