"I think I will go to bed," I answered. "I am tired out,--and absolutely
miserable!"
"Alas, poor millionaire!" said Lucio gently,--"I am sorry, I assure you,
that the evening has ended so disastrously."
"So am I!" I returned despondently.
"Imagine it!" he went on, dreamily regarding me--"If my beliefs,--my
crack-brained theories,--were worth anything,--which they are not--I
could claim the only positive existing part of our late acquaintance
Viscount Lynton! But,--where and how to send in my account with him? If
I were Satan now...."