Ah, you see, you and I who have a quite indecent lack of ancestors, can't realise what the cult of family may be. There are families in the remote parts of England--not very rich, not very clever, and not very good-looking--who would look askance at a belted earl who came to demand their daughter's hand in marriage. They have a natural conviction that they're the salt of the earth, and in their particular corner they rule more absolutely than half the monarchs in Europe. The Allertons were like that. But Fred somehow seemed to belong to a different stock. The first thing he did was to play ducks and drakes with his fortune. MRS. CROWLEY. But men ought to be extravagant. That's what they're there for. DICK. Women always took his side because he had an irresistible charm of manner. MRS. CROWLEY. I think George has, too, a little. DICK. I hope for Lucy's sake he will turn out a different man from his father. I wish he weren't so like him in appearance. At last Fred Allerton had squandered every penny, and he married Lady Kelsey's sister, one of the three rich daughters of a Liverpool merchant. But he ran through her money, too, gambling, racing, and so forth, and she died of a broken heart--adoring him still. MRS. CROWLEY. You're as well informed as an encyclopædia, Mr. Lomas. DICK. You see, I was made the trustee for the poor remains of Mrs. Allerton's fortune, and I know how Lucy has managed to keep all their heads above water. She's wonderful. Ever since she was a child she's held the reins in her own hands. She's stuck to her father, though Lady Kelsey implored her to leave him to his own foolish ways. She saw that George was decently educated. She hid from the world all the little shifts and devices to which she had to resort in order to keep up an appearance of decency. MRS. CROWLEY. I suppose you, too, think Fred Allerton little better than a scamp? DICK. My dear lady, when a man has had to leave his club because he plays cards too well, it's at least permissible to suppose that there's something odd about him. MRS. CROWLEY. Here's Lady Kelsey. For heaven's sake try and amuse her a little. [LADY KELSEY _comes back into the room_. LADY KELSEY. Oh, Dick, I'm so full of my own troubles, I forgot to ask about yours. I'm so sorry to hear that you're ill. DICK. On the contrary, I'm in the very best of health. LADY KELSEY. But I saw in the papers that you were going to give up your seat in the House owing to ill-health. DICK. Of course, I'd forgotten. My heart is seriously deranged. MRS. CROWLEY. How dreadful! What is the matter with it? DICK. Can you ask? I've banged it about at your feet so long that its functions are excessively impaired. And it's beaten all my waistcoats out of shape. MRS. CROWLEY. Don't be so foolish. I was quite alarmed. DICK. I'm going to retire. LADY KELSEY. From the bar as well? DICK.