“He isn’t that fellow who is being lionised because he made the fortune out of the soft drink places, is he?” asked my master.
“The same—did you ever see him?”
“Haven’t had that pleasure,” said my master dryly.
“Mrs. van der Spyten took him up, and Grandmother followed suit. He’s handsome in a cold, quiet way and, wonderful to relate—the dead image of Napoleon.”
“Napoleon and the Bowery!” said my master disdainfully.
“Grandmother can make him talk more than any one,” continued Miss Stanna. “She’s unearthed the fact that his father belonged to a good, old English family, that he married a barmaid and ran away to America, that he lived in Chicago, and had this son who seems to have lived everywhere from Chicago to Rio Janeiro.”
“Is he a gentleman?” asked my master.
The girl turned on him quickly. “Now what do you mean by a gentleman?”
“You know,” he said doggedly.