"The Count?"
"The No-Count."
"No, of course not. Where did you get such an idea?"
He lighted his cigar with a look of relief, put it in his mouth, and sat back in his chair.
"Don't let your Aunt Sophia go and make a fool of you. She is a very good business woman, but you know she is not exactly—Solomon, and she is stark mad about titles. When you marry, marry a man."
"Mr. Canter, for example?" laughed the girl. "He is Aunt Sophia's second choice. She is always talking about his money."
"She is always talking about somebody's money, generally her own. But before I'd let that fellow have you I'd kill him with my own hand. He's the worst young man I know. Why, if I could tell you half—yes, one-tenth, of the things I have heard about him—But I can't tell you—only don't go and let anybody pull the wool over your eyes."
"No fear of that," said the girl.
"No, I don't know that there is. I think you've got a pretty clear little head on your shoulders. But when any one gets—gets—why, gets her feelings enlisted you can't just count on her, you know. And with your Aunt Sophy ding-donging at you and flinging her sleek Count and her gilded fools at you, it takes a good head to resist her."
The girl reassured him with a smile of appreciation.