“Now, what sort of a man is Torrington? He’s a distant cousin of mine. My great aunt was his grandmother or something of that sort. But I only met him once, years ago. Apart from politics now, I don’t profess to admire his politics--I never did. How men like your father and Torrington can mix themselves up with that damned socialist crew--But apart from politics, what sort of a man is Torrington?” “I never saw him,” said Frank. “I’ve been at school, you know, Uncle Lucius.” “Quite so, quite so. But your father now. Your father must know him intimately. I know he’s rich, immensely rich. American mother, American wife, dollars to burn, which makes it all the harder to understand his politics. But his private life--what does your father think of him? “Last time father stopped there,” said Frank, “he was called in the morning by a footman who asked him whether he’d have tea, coffee or chocolate. Father said tea. ‘Assam, Oolong, or Sooching, sir,’ said the footman, ‘or do you prefer your tea with a flavour of Orange Pekoe?’” “By gad!” said Sir Lucius. “That’s the only story I’ve ever heard father tell about him,” said Frank, “but they say----” “That he has the devil of a temper.” said Sir Lucius, “and rides roughshod over every one? I’ve been told that.” “Father never said so.” “Quite right. He wouldn’t, couldn’t in fact. It wouldn’t be the thing at all. The fact is, Frank, that Torrington’s coming here tomorrow, wired from Dublin to say so. He and Lady Torrington. I can’t imagine what he wants here. I’d call it damned insolence in any one else, knowing what I must think of his rascally politics, what every decent man thinks of them. But of course he’s a kind of cousin. I suppose he recollected that. And he’s a pretty big pot. Those fellows invite themselves, like royalty. But I don’t know what the devil to do with him, and your aunt’s greatly upset. She says it’s against her principles to be decently civil to a man who’s treated women the way Torrington has.” “If the women had let him alone----” said Frank, “I know. I know. One of them boxed his ears or something, pretty girl, too, I hear; but that only makes it worse. That sort of thing would get any man’s back up. But your aunt--that is to say, my sister--doesn’t see that. That’s the worst of strong principles. You never can see when your own side is in the wrong. But it makes it infernally awkward Torrington’s coming here just now. And Lady Torrington! It upsets us all. I wonder what the devil he’s coming here for?” “I don’t know,” said Frank. “Could he be studying the Irish question? Isn’t there some Home Rule Bill or something? Father said next year would be an Irish year.”