G. I haven't exactly put it before her. She's the best little woman in
the world, Jack, and all that--but she wouldn't counsel a man to stick
to his calling if it came between him and her. At least, I think--
M. Never mind. Don't tell her what you told me. Go on the Peerage and
Landed-Gentry tack.
G. She'd see through it. She's five times cleverer than I am.
M. (_Aside._) Then she'll accept the sacrifice and think a little bit
worse of him for the rest of her days.
G. (_Absently._) I say, do you despise me?
M. 'Queer way of putting it. Have you ever been asked that question?
Think a minute. What answer used you to give?
G. So bad as _that?_ I'm not entitled to expect anything more, but it's
a bit hard when one's best friend turns round and--
M. So _I_ have found. But you will have consolations--Bailiffs and
Drains and Liquid Manure and the Primrose League, and, perhaps, if
you're lucky, the Colonelcy of a Yeomanry Cav-al-ry Regiment--all
uniform and no riding, I believe. How old are you?