"Oh; they love it--at any rate, the ones who are left do. The rebels are the younger generation. Society in England, my dear Arkwright, is dissolved into three divisions--the Autocrats, the Aristocrats, and the Democrats. I take my hat off to the Aristocrats--the Chichesters, the Medleys, the Darrants, the Weddons. All those quiet, decorous people, poor as mice many of them, standing aside altogether from any movements or war-cries of the day, living in their quiet little houses, or their empty big ones, clever some of them, charitable all of them, but never asserting their position or estimating it. They never look about them and see where they are. They've no need to. They're just there. "The Democrats are quite a new development--not much of them at present--the Ruddards, the Denisons, the Oaks--but we shall hear a lot of them in the future, I'm sure. They'll sacrifice anything for cleverness; they must be amused; life must be entertaining. They embrace everybody: actors, Americans, writers; they're quite clever, mind you, and it's all perfectly genuine. They're not snobs--they say, 'Here are our lands and our titles. You're common and vulgar, but you've got brains--you're amusing and we're well born--let's make an exchange. Life must be fun for us, so we'll have anyone with money or talent." "Then, last of all, the Autocrats--the Beaminsters, the Gutterils, the Ministers. I'm using Autocrat in its broadest sense, but that's just what they are. You _must_ have your quarterings, and you must look down on those who haven't. But, more than that, everything must be preserved, and continual ceremonies, dignities, chastities, restraints, pomps, and circumstances. Above all, no one must be admitted within the company who is not of the noblest, the stupidest, the narrowest. "The Beaminsters are the bodyguard of this little army, and the Duchess is their general. There, behind her shut doors, she keeps it all going; an American like Mrs. Bronson, a democrat like George Lent, she spoils their games here, there, everywhere. So far all has been well. But at last there are enemies within her gates--that girl, Breton. Now, at last, for the first time in her life, she must look out." He paused. They had reached Portland Place. To right and left of them the broad road was golden in the sun--dark trees guarded one end of it, bronzed roofs the other. Two carriages stood like sentinels at the upper end.