You would say, "What does this
young man, so well-dressed, in a _mont-de-piete_?" But I know
better, I, Gandinot. You have an expression, you English--I heard it in
Paris in a cafe, and inquired its meaning--when you say of a man that he
swanks. How many young men have I seen here, admirably dressed--rich,
you would say. No, no. The _mont-de-piete_ permits no secrets. To
swank, mademoiselle, what is it? To deceive the world, yes. But not the
_mont-de-piete_. Yesterday also, when you had departed, was he
here, that young man. Yet here he is once more today. He spends his
money quickly, alas! that poor young swanker.'
When Ruth returned home that evening she found her father in the
sitting-room, smoking a cigarette. He greeted her with effusion, but
with some uneasiness--for the old gentleman had nerved himself to a
delicate task. He had made up his mind tonight to speak seriously to
Ruth on the subject of her unsatisfactory behaviour to Mr Vince. The
more he saw of that young man the more positive was he that this was
the human gold-mine for which he had been searching all these weary
years. Accordingly, he threw away his cigarette, kissed Ruth on the
forehead, and began to speak.
It had long been Mr Warden's opinion that, if his daughter had a fault,
it was a tendency towards a quite unnecessary and highly inconvenient
frankness.
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