He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. She pointed. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. She answered slowly. ’ ‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again. He was always drawing contrasts between a woman’s lot and a man’s, and treating her as a wonderful new departure in this comparison. She did not think for one moment what interpretation he might put upon the word “lover. You are right.
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