"I 'm a sulky brute, for one thing, and I 've got to be a pessimist lately, for another—a horrid fault, that!— and I have a vile temper ⸺"
"All those faults might be serviceable in a brother," I said. "Though in any one else ⸺"
"In a friend or a lover, they 'd be unbearable, of course; I know that," he broke in. "But who 'd want me for a friend? And as for a lover, why, I 'm struck off the list of eligibles, forever—if I was ever on it."
After that, we ate our luncheon as fast as we could (a very bad habit, which I don't mean to keep up for man or brother), and even though the others had begun long before we did, we finished while they were still cracking nuts and peeling apples, their spirits somewhat subdued by the Englishman's presence.
"The great folk won't have got their money's worth for nearly an hour yet," said Mr. Dane. "Don't you want to go and have a look at the Cathedral? There are some grand things to see there—the triptych called 'Le Buisson Argent,' and some splendid old tapestry in the choir; a whole wall and some marble columns from a Roman temple of Apollo—oh, and you must n't forget to look for the painting of St. Mitre the Martyr trotting about with his head in his hands. On the way to the Cathedral notice the doorways you 'll pass. Aix is celebrated for its doorways."
(Evidently my brother passed through Aix, as well as along the Corniche, under "different circumstances!")
"You mean—I'm to go alone?"
"Yes, I can't leave the car to take you. I 'm sorry."
The French half of me was vexed again, but did n't
