"It's the life I wanted. As a boy I longed to grow up quickly and go into the army. There was a fair chance of it then, when the old man had still got a bit of money left. But by the time I was old enough the idea had to be knocked on the head. I had to go into a dingy stockbroking office instead." Hugh pricked up his ears at the announcement. He had not suspected that the man would be so communicative about his past. Of course he had gone as a clerk. If his father was not well-off enough to put him in the army neither could he have afforded to buy him a share in a business. "Yes," pursued Mr Burton, "it was an awful come down after the dreams I had indulged in." "It must have been a very bitter disappointment," assented Hugh politely, in spite of his firm conviction that the army was the very last profession in the world suited to a man of his host's obvious peculiarities. "I should have been awfully keen on soldiering," pursued Mr Burton, under the impression that he had discovered a sympathetic listener. "Don't you consider it a splendid life?" "There are many things in its favour, certainly," was the rather frigid reply. "But, after all, I don't think I should have cared to be in the line; there's not the same glamour about it, is there? You fellows in the cavalry, in a crack regiment like yours, must see the rosy side of life." He heaved a sigh. "And, of course, you've all got pots of money to grease the wheels." Hugh fidgeted perceptibly. How very vulgar the man was, with an innate vulgarity that nothing would ever eradicate. But his host, absorbed in his own reflections, did not observe the movement. "Of course, we know all about you, about the great house of Murchison, you are tiled-in all right." He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper: "What about that young chap yonder? I suppose he's rolling in money, too?" It was growing insufferable. For two pins Hugh would have got up and bidden him good night then and there, but he shrank from making a scene. What a fool he had been to come here, to allow his kindly feeling for that susceptible young donkey of a Pomfret to expose him to such an ordeal as this. "Really, Mr Burton," he said in a cutting voice, "I do not discuss the private affairs of my friends on such a brief acquaintance. If you are really anxious to know, I believe Mr Pomfret has considerable expectations from an old aunt who is fairly wealthy. Those expectations depend, I understand, upon his conforming generally to her wishes in all respects." "Ah, I understand," said the unabashed Burton. "Sorry if my question gave you offence. What really put it in my head was the difference between his position and mine when I was his age." There was silence for some little time, while the two men applied themselves steadily to their cigars. Then Burton jumped up suddenly. "This must be a bit slow for you and your friend, and the night is young. What do you say to a game at bridge?"