"But how did you happen to be here?"

"Oh, I've known Ed Manning years, in New York, Paris, all around. He

asked me to visit him some time. I wired and asked him if I could come

out for our honeymoon--you know, Harry, I'm such a d----d romantic son

of a gun, and once before I was out here at Ed's, and those d----d

nightingales, catbirds, what d'ye call 'ems----"

"--Mockers."

"Yes, mockers, they sung so sweet, especial in the evenings, you

know--and I'm so d----d romantic--always was thataway--and you know,

why, a fellow can be romantic on his honeymoon, can't he?--he can

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just cut loose then an' be as big a d--n fool as he likes then--an'

get away with it, what? Say, can't he?"

--"Yes."

--"So that's why I came."

--"But--honeymoon? Are you going to be married?"

--"Naw! I ain't goin' to be married--I am married! Day before

yesterday, in New Orleans. And I don't believe in dandlin' an' foolin'

around about a little thing like that. Ain't you married yet?"

"No. Impossible. No preacher on Côte Blanche Bay or on our boat. I've

got Aunt Lucinda Daniver along, to take care of the proprieties. If I

should leave it to her, I never would be married."

"Why?"

"She thinks I'm broke."

"Yes, too bad about that! I wish I could swap bank rolls with you. Why

didn't you tell her the truth--and Helena, too? Why didn't you tell

'em it was your own yacht? Why didn't you tell 'em you're worth a few

millions and don't have to work?"

"I don't know--maybe I'm like you, Cal, foolish about nightingales and

things. But tell me--you never did tell them anything about that Sally

M. mine business, did you?"

"No, I should say not! Didn't you tell me you didn't want it to get

out? It was bad enough, the way old Dan and your--sainted father

handed it to each other over that mine, wasn't it? I know about it,

for I promoted that mine myself, and the name'll prove that--Sally M.

Byington, with the Byington left off! There wasn't a blasted thing in

it then. But when you--like a blame quixotic fool--after she was good

for six thousand a month velvet, and ore blocked out to last a

thousand years--why, then you fool around in Papa's records, and think

Papa wasn't on the square with old Dan. So on the quiet you get it all

made over, back to old Dan's daughter; and take a sneak into the

hazelbrush when she turns you down! Say, you know what I'd a-done?"

"No."

--"I'd a-held on to the mine and told the girl how much it was

bringin' in--that's my system. Then I'd a-got the mine and the girl

both, maybe!"




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