"One must never forget," said George solemnly, "that rank has its
duties as well as its privileges." I helped myself to another glass
of champagne.
"What is it you want me to do?" I asked.
"I have no wish to dictate to you in any way," he answered. "I am
merely offering you my advice. As your elder brother and the head of
the family, I naturally take an interest in your career."
"Fire ahead," I replied gratefully. "I'm always ready to listen to
wisdom, especially from a Cabinet Minister."
There was a short pause.
"Well, then," said George, taking a thoughtful pull at his cigar, "my
advice is that you should accept this invitation from Lady Bulstrode,
and make up your mind to settle down."
"To do what?" I asked in dismay.
"To settle down," repeated George, with some firmness. "If you are
ever going to do anything with your life, it's quite time you
started. You can't go wandering about the world in this aimless
fashion for ever."
"But it isn't aimless, George," I protested. "I always have an
excellent reason for going anywhere."
"And may I ask what your 'excellent reason' was for spending the
whole of last year in the wilds of Kashmir?"
"I wanted to shoot a snow leopard," I said.
George shrugged his shoulders.
"Exactly what I mean. A year of your life thrown away on a frivolous
piece of sport."
"Frivolous!" I echoed. "There's devilish little frivolity about
shooting a snow leopard. You try it."
"Thank you," said George coldly. "I have something better to do with
my time."
It was plain that he was getting a little huffy, and my conscience
pricked me. With all his seriousness George is an excellent fellow.
"Look here, old son," I said. "Politics are all very well for
you--you've got a turn for that sort of thing--but what on earth use
should I be? I can't talk for nuts, and know rather less about the
game than this cigar."
George frowned slightly.
"Politics," he observed, "are not a game, and with regard to your
knowing nothing about them--I suppose you can learn. You have plenty
of ability if you care to use it. Sir Henry Martin was telling me
only yesterday that your paper about New Guinea in the _Fortnightly_
was quoted by practically every witness at the Royal Commission.
"Good!" said I. "That must be why the editor wants me to write him
something about Kashmir."
George nodded his head approvingly.
"I hope you will do so. Nowadays serious journalism is as good an
introduction to a political career as you could possibly have.
Besides, one would like to feel that all these years of wandering
about have not been entirely wasted."
"Oh, they've not been wasted, George," I said. "I've enjoyed 'em
enormously. The only thing is they've rather put me off what people
call civilization. I can stand a couple of months of London, but I'm
afraid I should get frightfully fed up if I stopped here much longer."
George leaned back in his chair and drummed lightly on the table with
his fingers.
"That," he said, "is due to the fact that you have no steadying
influence in your life. When you have once settled down to regular
work, you will find that this unfortunate restlessness will
disappear." Then he paused: "It would be a good thing if you were to
get married," he added.
"What, on my income?" I exclaimed; for I knew George had rather
spacious notions about the family dignity.
George nodded.
"There is no greater help for a rising politician than the right sort
of wife," he remarked oracularly.
"My dear George," I said, "I don't want to grumble about the size of
my income--it has always been ample for my simple tastes--but when it
comes to marriage and living in London and being in Parliament, what
the devil's the good of nine hundred pounds a year? Why, it wouldn't
keep some women in frocks!"
"There are some women," replied George, "who can very well afford to
pay for their own frocks."