me sort of life for ourselves, don't we? We can't just sit
down and--and----"

"No," said I. "I tried it. I got me a little place, far up in the
wilderness with what remained of my shattered fortunes--a few acres.
And I sat down there and tried that 'and--and' business. It didn't
seem to work. But we don't get on much in our parley, do we?"

"No. The most charitable thing I can think of is that you are crazy.
Aunt Lucinda must be right. But what do you intend to do with us? We
can't get off the boat, and we can't get any answer to our signals for
help."

"So you have signaled?"

"Of course. Waved things, you know."

"Delightful! The passing steamers no doubt thought you a dissipated
lot of northern joy-riders, bound south on some rich man's yacht."

"Instead of two troubled women on a stolen boat."

"Are you engaged to Cal Davidson, Helena?"

"What earthly difference?"

"True, none at all. As you say, I have stolen his boat, stolen his
wine, stolen his fried potatoes, stolen his waistcoats. But, bear
witness, I drew the line at his neckties. Nowhere else, however!" And
as I added this I looked at her narrowly.

"Will you put us ashore?" she asked, her color rising.

"No."

"We're coming to a town."

"Baton Rouge. The capital of Louisiana. A quaint and delightful city
of some sixty thousand inhabitants. The surrounding country is largely
devoted to the sugar industry. But we do not stop. Tell me, are you
engaged?"

But, suddenly, I saw her face, and on it was something of outraged
dignity. I bent toward her eagerly. "Forgive me! I never wanted to
give you pain, Helena. Forget my improper question."

"Indeed!"

"I've been fair with you. And that's hard for a man. Always,
always,--let me tell you something women don't understand--there's the
fight in a man's soul to be both a gentleman and a brute, because a
woman won't love him till he's a brute, and he hates himself when he
isn't a gentleman. It's hard, sometimes, to be both. But I tried. I've
been a gentleman--was once, at least. I told you the truth. When they
investigated my father, and found that, acting under the standard of
his day, he hadn't run plumb with the standards of to-day, I came and
told you of it. I released you then, although you never had promised
me, because I knew you mightn't want an alliance with--well, with a
front page family, you know. It blew over, yes; but I was fair with
you. You knew I had lost my money, and then you---