"It's a peaceful scene," said he, with a look of pure pleasure. "Why do I go into gaslight and noisy crowds when I can dwell always in this Arcadia?"
"Well, you don't," said Frank, not seeing where this speech would lead to. "You haven't been in a London theatre or drawing-room for ages."
"True enough. I keep out of those things. But I was saying that San Francisco was noisy."
"Were you? I didn't hear you," said Frank. Then, as Jarman again made no reply, he spoke up rather pettishly. His position didn't soothe his nerves in any way, poor fellow. "You can trust me, Eustace."
"How do you know I was becoming confidential?"
"Because you talked sentiment about the scene before you."
Eustace returned to his seat and laughed rather sadly. "You're an observer, my son," said he. "Yes. You have told me about your past--we must have a repetition of that story some day, for reasons you will easily understand--now I'll tell you my romance."
"About a woman?"
"Yes. Did you ever know a romance that didn't include a woman? And this one of mine included a corpse, too."
"Shot and stabbed?"