"He's such a man of the world," she went on. "He simply throws money about--banknotes. When he goes anywhere, the people all whisper, 'That's Flaten!'"
"He dresses as though he were a baron," I said.
"Yes," she replied, rather offended. "Yes, he dresses well--always has."
"Is that the man you want?" I asked lightly.
She was silent a moment, and then said with a resolute nod:
"Yes."
"What--that dandy?"
"Why not? We're old friends, we've gone to school together, spent a lot of time together. It's really based on a firm foundation. He's the only man I've ever been in love with in all my life, and it's lasted many years. Sometimes, I'll admit, I forget him, but the moment I see him again, I'm as much in love as ever. I've told him so, and we both laugh about it, but that doesn't change it. It's queer."
"Then I suppose he's too rich to marry her," I thought, and asked nothing more.
When we parted, I said: