There's a young man, Leslie! My
word, what a dog! Talks about gurls. So I left him. I turned upon him and
said, 'Sir, this is no talk for a gentleman to listen to.' I said it
because I knew it was what he would expect. Then I turned on my heel
and left him without a word. He ground his teeth and hissed, 'A time will
come.' But Cheriton seems rather a rude man, all the same. He hurts my
feelings too, whenever I meet him. I too hiss, 'A time will come.' But
I don't believe it ever will. Do you suppose the water is shallow over
there, or that the men walking on it are doing miracles? It must be fun,
either way. Let's do it instead of buying well-heads, Leslie. The fact
is, buying so many things is rather demoralising, I think. Let's decide
to buy no more. I'm beginning to believe in the simple life, like Rodney.
Rodney hates men like you and Urquhart--rolling plutocrats. He wanted me
to leave you and the other plutocrats and be a travelling pedlar. I'm not
sure that I shan't, before long."

"Can't spare you," Leslie grunted.

Peter flattered himself that he had successfully turned the conversation
from well-heads.

When, after having tea with Leslie at Florian's, he returned to the
Palazzo Amadeo, Teresina told him that someone had called to see the
Signore, and the Signore, being out, was waiting in the saloon. Peter
went to the saloon to see if he would do instead of the Signore, and
found a stout gentleman with a black moustache and up-brushed hair,
spitting on the saloon floor. A revolting habit, as Hilary was wont
wearily to remark; but Peter always accepted it with anyhow outward
equanimity.

"My brother is unfortunately away from the house," he explained, with
his polite smile and atrocious Italian. "But perhaps I can give him a
message?"

The visitor gave him a sharp look, bowed ceremoniously, and said, "Ah!
The Signore is the brother of Signor Margerison? Truly the brother?"

Peter assured him, not even halving the relationship; and indeed, he
seldom did that, even in his thoughts.

The visitor gave him a card, bearing the name of Signor Giacomo Stefani,
sat down, at Peter's request, spat between his feet, and said, "I have
had various affairs with your Signor brother before. I am come to solicit
his patronage in the matter of a pair of vases. If he would recommend
them for me in his paper, as before. They are good; they might easily be
antiques."

"You wish my brother to mention them in his paper?" Pet