“Just what I always say,” I observed, impressively.
“Let them put away their horse racing, their betting, their luxurious
living, their--”
“You’re right, Miss Milton,” said I.
“Let them set an example of morality.”
“They should,” I assented.
Miss Milton smiled.
“I thought we agreed really,” said she.
“I’m sure we do,” cried I; and I winked with my “off” eye at Mrs. Hilary
as I sat down beside Miss Milton.
“Now I heard of a man the other day,” said she, “who’s nearly 40. He’s
got an estate in the country. He never goes there, except for a few
days’ shooting. He lives in town. He spends too much. He passes an
absolutely vacant existence in a round of empty gaiety. He has by no
means a good reputation. He dangles about, wasting his time and his
money. Is that the sort of example--?”
“He’s a traitor to his class,” said I warmly.
“If you want him, you must look on a race course, or at a tailor’s, or
in some fashionable woman’s boudoir. And his estate looks after itself.
He’s too selfish to marry, too idle to work, too silly to think.”