"You can't. Look at the rich women who have been fooled—either fooled, or else satisfied to be sought for what they've got and not for what they are! You know them by the score."
"I think I should know if anyone loved me."
The man shook his head.
"There is only one way to make the perfect test," he told her, "and that's impossible. To rid yourself of every dollar for all time, and then see what happens."
The girl made no answer.
"Yes," he went on, "of all the women in the world, the rich American girl, in my opinion, stands the least chance to be mated as she should be. If she marries money, ten chances to one it's money she marries and not a man; if she marries a beggar, she gets an adventurer. The reason for this, is: the honest American men will not aspire to the hand of a girl of wealth; and those are the very men that the rich girl ought to marry. Unfortunately, however, they are just as independent in their way as she is in hers. You ought to come down and be poor," he concluded, helping her to alight, for the limousine was now in front of the Wilkinson house.
They crossed the pavement to the doorway. There she asked:
"Do you know any honest, poor man, who will——" She broke off abruptly, recognising her audacity, and then added: "Don't forget, at eight to-morrow morning. Those not on time will get left—for at two minutes past eight the Marchioness will be out in the middle of the Hudson. Until then,"—and she gave him her hand,—"at the landing——"
"Not at the landing," he broke in. "I'm going to start from here. I'll call for you just to see that Larry Pendexter keeps himself to himself, or at least to Jane Gerard. Is it a go?"
Leslie did not answer. Instead she flashed him a bewildering smile as she passed through the door which Jeffries held open for her.