"But this is a special kind of opinion. You see, sir, I've always been
poor. I've lived among poor people. I've seen how much they have to go
without. And I begin to see all that rich people have more than they
need--more than they can ever use."
"Oh, quite so! I see! I see! And you both get a bit revolutionary.
Go to it, boy! Fellows of your age who're not boiling over with
rebellion against social conditions as they are'll never be worth their
salt. Don't say anything about it before Mrs. Ansley, but between
yourselves.... Why, when I was an undergraduate.... You'll live through
it, though.... The poor people don't want any champions.... They don't
want to be helped.... You get sick of it in the long run.... But while
you're young boil away.... If that's all that bothers you...."
Tom explained that it was all that bothered him, and the bargain was
struck. He had expressed his thanks, shaken hands, and reached the
threshold on the way out when Ansley spoke again.
"Guy tells me that out at Cambridge they call you the Whitelaw Baby. I
suppose you know all about yourself--your people--where you began--that
sort of thing?"
He decided to be positive, laconic, to do what he could to squelch the
idea in Ansley's mind.
"Yes, sir; I do."
"Then that settles that."