thing
strong and admirable about him, but good-looking--never! His features
are too uneven, too big-boned."

"Just like a woman!" exclaimed Porter testily. "I suppose you think that
apology on your other side a beau ideal!"

Nina glanced critically toward the small features and blond curls of
Allegro. "No," she said, "he is much too effeminate."

"Then who is your Adonis?"

"The best-looking man I have ever seen? Well--I think I'd choose the
Marchese di Valdo." The pink mounted over her cheeks into her hair, for
she thought Porter was going to deride. To her surprise he agreed with
her.

"Of his type, yes, he certainly is good; but I prefer John's. I can see
how di Valdo would appeal to a girl, though personally I should ask more
masculinity, more bone and sinew."

Nina remembered how Giovanni had nearly choked the Great Dane, and she
shuddered slightly. "Oh, but he is strong," she exclaimed; "he is strong
as a panther! He always makes me think of Bagheera in the Jungle Book."

"Bagheera was warm-blooded; there was truth and affection in him--for
Mowgli, at all events. Your friend di Valdo is as cold a proposition as
you could find."

Nina thought this last characterization absurd, and said so.

"All right!" Porter answered. "You mark my word. He is a man swayed by
the emotions of the moment. He has feeling, yes--but no heart; he has
certain inborn principles, but they are racial rather than ethical. His
is the code of _Noblesse oblige_, not of the Golden Rule. In a point of
honor he is irreproachable, but it is he, himself, who defines the
boundaries of his code."

He paused a moment and continued in a more personal tone: "I don't know
you very well, Miss Randolph, but you are a girl from home. And--excuse
my frankness--you are one of our great heiresses. I am a stranger to
you, and that is why I am going to say something--perhaps all the more
forcefully because I have only a racial and not a personal interest: but
between marrying Giovanni Sansevero--or that Austrian over yonder--or
the golden-headed ornament on your right, and such a man as John Derby,
no woman with an ounce of sense could for one minute hesitate. The
first, by the gift of kings, are noblemen, but John over there, by the
grace of God, is a _man_!"

Nina was so deeply stirred by his words that she sat for a little while
quite motionless, looking down at her hands, which were clasped in her
lap. Then, before she either looked up or answer