But shortly afterwards I met an Englishman, with whom I struck up an acquaintance which at first seemed to promise well--a very bright man, who writes in the London papers and knows Paris nearly as well as Tristram.

We knocked about for a week together, but he very soon gave me up in disgust.

I was too virtuous by half; I was too stern a moralist.

He told me, in a friendly way, that I was cursed with a conscience; that I judged things like a Methodist and talked about them like an old lady.

This was rather bewildering.