"That," he said, "is due to the fact that you have no steadying influence in your life. When you have once settled down to regular work, you will find that this unfortunate restlessness will disappear." Then he paused: "It would be a good thing if you were to get married," he added. "What, on my income?" I exclaimed; for I knew George had rather spacious notions about the family dignity. George nodded. "There is no greater help for a rising politician than the right sort of wife," he remarked oracularly. "My dear George," I said, "I don't want to grumble about the size of my income--it has always been ample for my simple tastes--but when it comes to marriage and living in London and being in Parliament, what the devil's the good of nine hundred pounds a year? Why, it wouldn't keep some women in frocks!" "There are some women," replied George, "who can very well afford to pay for their own frocks." I looked at him with surprise and pain. "You are not doing anything so immoral as to suggest that I should marry for money?" I asked. George carefully removed the ash from his cigar. "To contract an alliance with a wealthy woman," he observed, "is not necessarily the same as what you are pleased to call marrying for money." "No, George," I said. "I hope I'm sufficiently English to appreciate the difference." "Besides," he went on, disregarding my interruption, "marriage must always be a matter of give and take. If a woman brings you a reasonable dowry, you, on the other hand, are able to offer her one of the oldest names in the country, an unimpeachable social position, and--er--a certain measure of youth and good looks." I picked up one of the Savoy tablespoons, and contemplated my reflection in its highly polished surface. I can only conclude that it did not do me justice. "That's all very well," I said; "but where does one find these gilded and easily pleased females?" Again George's brow contracted. "There are plenty of charming girls in society, who at the same time are by no means paupers. You are sure to find one or two at Grendon, for instance." I put down the spoon slowly. "Oh, ho!" said I. "Now I begin to understand. We are expected to combine business and pleasure this trip--eh?" "If you mean to suggest that I have been talking the matter over with Lady Bulstrode," said George coldly, "you are quite mistaken. At the same time, I know she would be only too pleased to see you make a sensible marriage. She has often asked after you when you've been away, and when she heard you were in London she insisted on my sending her your address at once." "Lady Bulstrode," I said, "is a dear old soul. I've always been in love with her ever since I was a kid at Strathmore and she used to ask me over to Grendon to shoot rabbits. By the way, who's living at Strathmore now?" George looked at me a little suspiciously. I think he believed me guilty of trying to change the conversation.