Bertram did not answer, but with firm-set jaws looked straight in front of him. “You know, if I were you I would try not to take it too much to heart,” he went on. “In a little while you’ll understand that both you and Winnie would have been quite unnecessarily wretched.” He paused and looked at Bertram sharply. “Will you promise not to turn round and bolt if I stop to light a cigarette?” “Yes,” said Bertram, smiling in spite of himself. “You think she’s a very remarkable young woman, but she’s quite an average girl. Perhaps she’s a little prettier than most. I know very few young women of her particular station who wouldn’t have acted as she has.” “Then Heaven help her particular station,” cried Bertram. “I don’t suppose it’s struck you that it’s a very awkward one,” replied Lord Spratte, mildly. “A great family might have lived down a match of this sort, (I don’t want to hurt your feelings,) but we’re such very small fry. You think us snobs, and so we are. You can’t expect anythin’ else from people who’ve only just emerged from the middle-classes. You know, I have an impression that your grandfather and mine were great pals. I’m sure they used to hobnob and drink brandy and water together in seedy public-houses. Do you remember the Egyptian usurper who made a wine-cup into the image of a god, for the edification of his former boon-fellows? Well, we’re somethin’ like that astute monarch; we have to use all sorts of stratagems to persuade the world of our gentility. If this affair between you and Winnie had come to anything, do you know what she would have done? She would have tried all her life to live up to Mayfair, and it would have meant either that you were dragged away from your proper work, or that she would have been eternally dissatisfied. My dear boy, she would have reproached you every day for marrying her.” He stopped, feeling that the words were not coming as he wished. He wanted to be kind, and there were a few useful things he thought Bertram ought to know. But he could not properly order what was in his mind. Bertram felt the intention and presently answered less bitterly: “Why do you take the trouble to say all this?” “I wish I had my brother Theodore’s eloquence. He’d say what I want to in the most beautiful language. He’s not a bad chap, although you probably don’t set much store on him. He’s so fortunate as to feel himself a person of importance; I don’t. I always wish I’d been the son of nobody in particular. It bores me to death to go about under the shadow of my father’s name. I can’t think why it is, but I go through life feeling as if I were perpetually wearin’ fancy-dress. I haven’t read your book. I believe it’s very instructive, and at my time of life I avoid instruction. But when Winnie said she was going to marry you, I went one day to hear you speak at a meetin’ in Holborn. I was never so surprised in my life.” “Why?”