"Why? Because I was a priggish young cub,
I suppose. I had been brought up in an over-luxurious
home, and coddled and faddled after till
I thought the world was made of pink cotton-wool
and sugared almonds. Then one fine day I found
out that someone I had trusted had deceived me.
Why, how you start! What is it?"
"Nothing. Go on, please."
"I found out that I had been tricked into believing
a lie; a common bit of experience, of course;
but, as I tell you, I was young and priggish, and
thought that liars go to hell. So I ran away from
home and plunged into South America to sink or
swim as I could, without a cent in my pocket or a
word of Spanish in my tongue, or anything but
white hands and expensive habits to get my bread
with. And the natural result was that I got a dip
into the real hell to cure me of imagining sham
ones. A pretty thorough dip, too--it was just
five years before the Duprez expedition came
along and pulled me out."
"Five years! Oh, that is terrible! And had
you no friends?"
"Friends! I"--he turned on her with sudden
fierceness--"I have NEVER had a friend!"
The next instant he seemed a little ashamed of
his vehemence, and went on quickly:
"You mustn't take all this too seriously; I dare
say I made the worst of things, and really it wasn't
so bad the first year and a half; I was young and
strong and I managed to scramble along fairly
well till the Lascar put his mark on me.
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