Long Live the King! by Guy Boothby

From the moment that Mr. Brockford took Max to live with him the latter's lot in life seemed to change. Hitherto, apparently, no one had been aware of his existence; now scarcely a day passed in which he did not receive some sort of invitation from people who, as a rule, prided themselves upon their exclusiveness. Their favour may possibly have been due to the fact that he was of a different type to that to which they were accustomed. At any rate, his handsome face, charming manners, tall graceful figure, and _insouciant_ cavalry swagger, possessed a fascination for them which they seemed incapable of resisting. It was not long before he had made himself extremely popular, not only with the English portion of the population, but also with the Spanish.

"Be careful, Mortimer, my boy," Brockford would say to him, when he greeted him on his return from a ball or similar social function. "When you have seen as much of this little corner of the world as I have, you will know how dangerous women can be, and how they have it in their power to mar a man's career at its commencement. Many an excellent young fellow have I seen out here, only too anxious and ready to make his way in the world; then he has fallen in love, been egged into matrimony, only to find himself shelved and done for by all save his wife's relations, as soon as the knot was tied. I don't want that to happen to you."