d for snaking you out of the fold. That's it, I
fancy?"

"Yes."

"Too bad--too bad. She's a fine woman--a very fine little woman. That's
the kind a man ought to marry and bother the Almighty with gratitude all
the rest of his life. Well--well! Your family is your own after all; and
I live in Dartford, thank God!--not on lower Fifth Avenue or Tenth
Street."

He started away, halted, came back:

"Couldn't you run away with her?" he asked anxiously.

"She won't," replied Neville, unsmiling.

"I mean, violently. But she's too heavy to carry, I fancy--and I'll bet
she's got the vigour of little old Diana herself. No--you couldn't do
the Sabine act with her--only a club and the cave-man's gentle
persuasion would help either of you.... Well--well, if they see her at
breakfast it may help some. You know a woman makes or breaks herself at
breakfast. That's why the majority of woman take it abed. I'm serious,
Louis; no man can stand 'em--the majority."

Once more he started away, hesitated, came back.

"Who's this Countess that Sam is so crazy about?"

"A sweet little woman, well-bred, and very genuine and sincere."

"Never heard of her in Dartford," muttered the doctor.

Neville laughed grimly:

"Billy, Tenth Street and lower Fifth Avenue and Greenwich Village and
Chelsea and Stuyvesant Square--and Syringa Avenue, Dartford, are all
about alike. Bird Centre is just as stupid as Manhattan; and there never
was and never will be a republic and a democracy in any country on the
face of this snob-cursed globe."

The doctor, very red, stared at him.

"By jinks!" he said, "I guess I'm one after all. Now, who in hell would
suspect that!--after all the advice I've given you!"

"It was another fellow's family, that's all," said Neville wearily.
"Theories work or they don't; only few care to try them on themselves or
their own families--particularly when they devoutly believe in them."

"Gad! That's a stinger! You've got me going all right," said the doctor,
wincing, "and you're perfectly correct. Here I've been practically
counselling you to marry where your inclination led you, and let the
rest go to blazes; and when it's a question of Sam doing something
similar, I retire hastily across the river and establish a residence in
Missouri. What a rotten, custom-ridden bunch of snippy-snappy-snobbery
we are after all!... All the same--who _is_ the Countess?"

Neville didn't know much about her.

"Sam's such an ass," said