"I!—no indeed. As Helen remarked, I never liked him, but I like him less and less as time goes on."
"What is the matter with him?"
"Everything is the matter with him. He is as cold as a stone; he cares for nobody in the world but Paul Rathborne, and for nothing that does not advance that important person's interest. He is supercilious until one longs to knock him down; and so ambitious that he would walk over the body of his dearest friend—granting that he had such a thing—to advance himself in life one inch."
"Altogether a very charming character!" remarked Marion. "It is certain that you are not the dearest friend over whose body he would walk."
Young Morley laughed. "No," he said, frankly. "I would walk over his with a good deal of pleasure; but he will never walk over mine, if I can help it. Though he may, for all that," he added, after an instant; "for he is so sharp that one can never tell what he is up to, until it is too late to frustrate him."
"This is very interesting," said Marion. "It is like reading a novel to hear a character analyzed in so masterly a manner."
Morley colored. He was too shrewd not to know that she was laughing at him; but while the fact was sufficiently evident, it was not exactly evident how best to show his appreciation of it. After a moment he spoke in a tone which had a little offense in it:—
"I don't suppose the subject interests you, so I ought to beg pardon for dwelling on it. But I only meant to explain why Helen was vexed."
"And now you are vexed," observed Marion. "What have I done? I assure you I was in earnest in saying I was interested in your analysis of Mr. Rathborne's character."
"It sounded more as if you were satirical," said Morley. "And I was not trying to analyze his character: I was only answering your questions about it."