To which he answered with some emphasis: "By God you have!" and looking out into the trees in the Green Park he fell into a reverie, the monotone of which was his large and increasing indebtedness. It did not trouble him, but it furnished a constant food for his thoughts and lent him just that interest in the acquirement of money which his Irish character perhaps needed. Later, as the room filled with callers, the conversation upon the Clutterbucks became more general. A certain Mr. Higginson, who was very smart indeed and wrote for the papers, was able to give the most precise information: Old Clutterbuck had been worth four millions; he'd dropped a lot on house property in Paris. He was worth nearly three anyhow, but he was a miserly old beggar. He had made it by frightening Charley Hatton. At this all of his audience were pleased and several laughed. "I'd frighten the beggar for less than four millions," said Charlie Fitzgerald. He spread out his arms and made a loud roaring noise to show how he'd do it, to the huge amusement of an aged general who loved youth and high spirits, but to the no small annoyance of Mr. Higginson, who hated being interrupted. "Nonsense!" said Mary Smith, pouring out tea for a new caller in the old familiar way (she detested a pack of servants and kept hers for the most part in the double-decked basement underground). "Nonsense! I believe he made it perfectly honestly. He's got a dear old face!" Mary Smith had never seen his face, but a good word is never thrown away. "He's got an old hag of a wife," blurted out the General, "an old----" Mary Smith put up her hand. "Now do be careful--you used that word only last Thursday." "Good Lord!" said Charlie Fitzgerald; "what a long time." And the General and he, who had lunched together that same day, were amused beyond the ordinary at the simple jest. "I've never seen his wife," said Mary Smith severely and with perfect truth. "She's probably just like everybody else. You people make up ideas in your heads about classes that don't exist. Everybody's just like everybody else.... Look at old Bolney!" "Damned if he's like anybody else!" said Miss Mosel, taking her cigarette out of her mouth and picking a long shred of yellow tobacco from her underlip at the same time. "Mamma calls him Cow Bolney." "She's quite wrong, my dear, thoroughly wrong," said the old General fussily. "I wouldn't have believed it of your mother. I knew her when she was your age." "Don't believe it now," said Mary Smith soothingly, "Victoria tells lies." "No, I don't," said Miss Mosel stolidly. "Anyhow I'm coming to see old Clutterbuck." "Not if I know it," said Mary Smith grimly. "Oh, I don't mean at dinner," caught up Victoria Mosel lightly. "I wouldn't rag anybody's dinner, but you can't prevent my coming on, after." Mrs. Smith gazed at her imploringly. "Don't play the fool, Vic," she begged. "I shan't play the fool," said Victoria. "I only want to look on: I won't touch."