friend waited to hear what. Then Morgan brought out oddly: "A little
reputation."

"Oh there's plenty of that. That's all right!"

"Enough of it for the people they know, no doubt. The people they know
are awful."

"Do you mean the princes? We mustn't abuse the princes."

"Why not? They haven't married Paula--they haven't married Amy. They
only clean out Ulick."

"You _do_ know everything!" Pemberton declared.

"No, I don't, after all. I don't know what they live on, or how they
live, or _why_ they live! What have they got and how did they get it?
Are they rich, are they poor, or have they a modeste aisance? Why are
they always chiveying me about--living one year like ambassadors and the
next like paupers? Who are they, any way, and what are they? I've
thought of all that--I've thought of a lot of things. They're so beastly
worldly. That's what I hate most--oh, I've _seen_ it! All they care
about is to make an appearance and to pass for something or other. What
the dickens do they want to pass for? What _do_ they, Mr. Pemberton?"

"You pause for a reply," said Pemberton, treating the question as a joke,
yet wondering too and greatly struck with his mate's intense if imperfect
vision. "I haven't the least idea."

"And what good does it do? Haven't I seen the way people treat them--the