“It affords one a great chance to moralize, at any rate.  Take the building of this canal, for instance.  First, the French came, led by a dreamer, and poured in the wealth of an empire in order that they might exact toll from the world.  You see, they were all lured by the love of gain—­the Spaniards, who pillaged the natives to begin with, and the French, who set out to squeeze profit from all the other nations.  But it seems as if the spot were infected.  The French lost an army in their project; corruption gnawed through, and the thing ended in disgrace and disaster.  Spain and France have come and gone, and at last we Yankees have arrived.  It seems to be the will of God that the youngest, lustiest people on the earth should finally be sent to clean this Augean stable.”

“By Jove!  I never thought of it that way.”

“It is a big task, Mr. Anthony, and the mere digging of the ditch is the smallest part.  There is a great deal more to be done.  You see, as men attain culture, they require more than mere food and drink and bedding, and in the same way, as nations attain to greatness, they require more than mere territory—­they reach out and absorb power and prestige.  Our decision to build the Panama Canal is like the landing of another Columbus; the conquest is to follow.  After that will come—­who knows what?  Perhaps more wars, more pillage, more injustice.”

“You talk like a man,” Anthony said, admiringly.  “I had no idea you looked at things in such a big way.”

“You are laughing at me.”

“No, indeed.”

“You see, it is part of my husband’s profession.  As to the romance—­well, all women are romantic and imaginative, I suppose, and you’ve been an inspiring listener.”

“I don’t know about that, but—­you’re a corking good talker.  Excuse my archaic English.”  Mrs. Cortlandt turned her eyes upon the speaker, and he saw that they were very bright.  “I’ve been thinking about what you told me the other day,” he ran on, “about myself.  Remember?”

“I’m glad I have the knack of making something besides football signals stick in your memory,” said she.  “Have you been thinking about that girl I spoke of?”

“Yes,” he replied, ingenuously.  “I’ve been making up my mind to ask you if you happen to have a sister—­an unmarried sister, I mean.”

Mrs. Cortlandt laughed appreciatively.  “No, I have no sister, but I thank you for the compliment.  I suppose you meant it for one?”

“Yes.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.  I’m quite sure now that my notion about you was right.  It will take a woman to make a man of you.”

“It used to be my wind that troubled me,” said the athlete, mournfully.  “Now it seems to be my heart.”