"At your age--" commenced the Dame.
"I am feeling younger than I ever felt in all my life," Nicholas
interrupted her.
"You don't look it," commented the Dame.
"What do looks matter?" snapped Nicholas. "It is the soul of a man
that is the real man."
"They count for something, as the world goes," explained the Dame.
"Why, if I liked to follow your example and make a fool of myself,
there are young men, fine young men, handsome young men--"
"Don't let me stand in your way," interposed Nicholas quickly. "As
you say, I am old and I have a devil of a temper. There must be many
better men than I am, men more worthy of you."
"I don't say there are not," returned the Dame: "but nobody more
suitable. Girls for boys, and old women for old men. I haven't lost
my wits, Nicholas Snyders, if you have. When you are yourself
again--"
Nicholas Snyders sprang to his feet. "I am myself," he cried, "and
intend to remain myself! Who dares say I am not myself?"
"I do," retorted the Dame with exasperating coolness." Nicholas
Snyders is not himself when at the bidding of a pretty-faced doll he
flings his money out of the window with both hands. He is a creature
bewitched, and I am sorry for him. She'll fool you for the sake of
her friends till you haven't a cent left, and then she'll laugh at
you.
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