Henry C. Rowland

“ The Lady Thalia smiled.
"You men are dears!" she said impulsively, in her soft, accented English. "Paula and I should consider ourselves very lucky to have found two such friends. Come, then, if you wish." She held out her hand.
Sir James took it quickly in his, and, with his brick-red face slightly brickier, leaned over and brushed it with his lips. At the same moment there came from the doorway behind him an explosive "Sapristi!" followed by a hoarse, gurgling chuckle. He turned in his chair, and looked up into the sardonically grinning face of Baron Isidor Rosenthal. ”

“ Sir James knit his brows and spun his monocle around his finger.
"Besides," said the Lady Thalia slowly, "we could not think of letting you put yourself to so much trouble and expense."
"As for the trouble," said Sir James, "that doesn't count, because, you see, we've neither of us a blessed thing to do, and as far as expense is concerned, Dallas swears that he would cheerfully put up forty thousand pounds against old Rosenthal's, just to get even. He's shockingly rich. What will happen when you get to Belgrade?"
The Lady Thalia's face clouded. "I have no idea," she answered. ”

“ Last night you were outnumbered; the odds were too heavy, and there are very few men, Sir James, who would care to attack a giant like Rosenthal. There is nothing for you to feel ashamed of, and besides"—she slightly raised her chin—"I do not consider mere personal pride to be enough of a motive for what you wish to do."
"It is not the only motive. You see, Dallas and I are mere idlers. I paint bad pictures, and he plays with motors. We have often bewailed our lack of objective. ”