"Only one very outwardly important thing--publicly," retorted Burnaby.
"You may be a very great banker with a very great background as a
husband, but you can't be a very great banker and at the same time what
is known as a 'very great lover.' In Europe, where they arrange their
lives better, one chooses either banking or 'loving'." He smiled with
frank good humor at Pollen; the first time, Mrs. Ennis reflected, he had
done so that night. A suspicion that Burnaby was not altogether
ingenuous crossed her mind. But why wasn't he?

"You're a man, Pollen," he said; "tell them it's true."

Pollen, absorbed apparently in thoughts of his own stammered slightly.
"Why--why, yes," he agreed hastily.

Mrs. Ennis sighed ruefully and looked at Burnaby with large, humorously
reproachful eyes. "You have changed," she observed, "or else you're not
saying but half of what you really think--and part of it you don't think
at all."

"Oh, yes," laughed Burnaby, "you misunderstand me." He picked up a fork
and tapped the table-cloth with it thoughtfully; then he raised his
head. "I was thinking of a story I might tell you," he said, "but on
second thoughts I don't think I will."

"Don't be foolish!" admonished Mrs. Ennis. "Your stories are always
interesting. First finish your dessert."

Pollen smiled languidly. "Yes," he commented, "go on. It's interesting,
decidedly. I thought people had given up this sort of conversation long
ago."