rents and they expect to rule their husbands. In Europe we do
things better; we are not--what is the English?--hag-ridden?"

There was a sort of murmur among the men, but the women all nodded as if
they thought Europe was entirely right. They'd have agreed with him if
he'd advocated sixteen wives sitting cross-legged on a mat, like the
Turks. Mr. Pierce was still staring at the prince.

"What I don't quite understand, Mr. von Inwald," the bishop put in in
his nice way, "is your custom of expecting a girl to bring her husband
a certain definite sum of money and to place it under the husband's
control. Our wealthy American girls control their own money," He was
thinking of Miss Patty, and everybody knew it.

The prince turned red and glared at the bishop. Then I think he
remembered that they didn't know who he was, and he smiled and started
to turning the glass again.

"Pardon!" he said. "Is it not better? What do women know of money? They
throw it away on trifles, dress, jewels--American women are extravagant.
It is one result of their--of their spoiling."

Mr. Pierce got up and emptied his pipe into the fire. Then he turned.

"I'm afraid you have not known the best type of American women," he
said, looking hard at the prince. "Our representative women are our
middle-class women. They do not contract European alliances, not having
sufficient money to attract the attention of the nobility, or enough to
buy titles, as they do pearls, for the purpose of adornment."

Mr. von Inwald got up, and his face was red. Mr. Pierce was white and
sneering.

"Also," he went on, "when they marry they wish to control their own
money, and not see it spent in--ways with which you are doubtless
familiar."

We were all paralyzed. Nobody moved. Mr. Pierce put his pipe in his
pocket and stalked out, slamming the door. Then Mr. von Inwald shrugged
his shoulders and laughed.

"I see I shall have to talk to our young friend," he said and picked
up his glass. "I'm afraid I've given a wrong impression. I like the
American women very much; too well," he went on with a flash of his
teeth, looking around the room, and brought the glass to the spring for
me to fill. But as I've said before, I can tell a good bit about a man
from the way he gives me his glass, and he was in a perfect frenzy of
rage. When I reached it back to him he gripped it until his nails were
white.

My joint ached all the rest of the afternoon. About five o'clock Mr.
T