“Not at all strange. Only what one would expect. She went down in the world. You went up--or stayed up--of course they didn’t tell you about her.” “Well--do you tell me about her. Will you sit down? May I offer you anything--a cigarette?” The visitor looked about the room; there was no indication of whisky. He sighed and declined the cigarette. But he accepted the chair. “Thank you,” he said. “It is more friendly sitting down. You’ve got comfortable quarters. No Mrs. C. as yet, is there? The old woman said that you were a bachelor. Now, then. It’s this way: She married my grandfather, Isaac Galley. That was fifty years ago--in 1849. No, 1850. Isaac Galley failed. His failure was remarked upon in the papers on account of the sum--the amount--of his liabilities. The _Times_ wanted to know how he managed to owe so much.” “Pray go on. I am interested. This part of our family history is new to me.” Leonard continued standing, looking down upon his visitor. He became aware, presently, of a ridiculous likeness to himself, and he found himself hoping that the vulture played a less prominent part in his own expression. All the Campaigne people were taller--much taller--than the average; their features were strongly marked; they were, as a rule, a handsome family. They carried themselves with a certain dignity. This man was tall, his features were strongly marked; but he was not handsome, and he did not carry himself with dignity. His shoulders were bent, and he stooped. He was one of the race, apparently, but gone to seed; looking “common.” No one could possibly mistake him for a gentleman by birth or by breeding. “Common” was the word to apply to Mr. Galley-Campaigne. “Common” is a word much used by certain ladies belonging to a certain stage of society about their neighbours’ children; it will do to express the appearance of this visitor. “Pray go on,” Leonard repeated mechanically, while making his observations; “you are my cousin, clearly. I must apologise for not knowing of your existence.” “We live at the other end of town. I’m a gentleman, of course, being in the Law--lower branch----” “Quite so,” said Leonard. “But the old woman--I mean my grandmother--takes jolly good care that I shall know the difference between you and me. You’ve had Eton and College to back you up. You’ve got the House of Commons and a swagger club. That’s your world. Mine is different. We’ve no swells where I live, down the Commercial Road. I’m a solicitor in what you would call a small way. There are no big men our way.” “It is a learned profession.” “Yes. I am not a City clerk, like my father.” “Tell me more about yourself. Your grandfather, you say, was bankrupt. Is he living?”