ilverbridge has got his governor to dinner,"
said Tifto, standing in the middle of the room, and looking round as
though he were announcing some confusion of the heavens and earth.

"Why shouldn't Lord Silverbridge have his father to dine with him?"
asked Mr. Lupton.

"I believe I know Silverbridge as well as any man, and by George it
is the very last thing of the kind that I should have expected. There
have been no end of quarrels."

"There has been no quarrel at all," said Tregear, who had then just
entered the room. "Nothing on earth would make Silverbridge quarrel
with his father, and I think it would break the Duke's heart to
quarrel with his son." Tifto endeavoured to argue the matter out; but
Tregear having made the assertion on behalf of his friend would not
allow himself to be enticed into further speech. Nevertheless there
was a good deal said by others, during which the Major drank two
glasses of whisky-and-water. In the dining-room he had been struck
with awe by the Duke's presence, and had certainly no idea of
presenting himself personally to the great man. But Bacchus lent
him aid, and when the discussion was over and the whisky had been
swallowed, it occurred to him that he would go upstairs and ask to be
introduced.

In the meantime the Duke and his son were seated in close
conversation on one of the upstairs sofas. It was a rule at the
Beargarden that men might smoke all over the house except in the
dining-room;--but there was one small chamber called the library, in
which the practice was not often followed. The room was generally
deserted, and at this moment the father and son were the only
occupants. "A club," said the Duke, as he sipped his coffee, "is
a comfortable and economical residence. A man gets what he wants
well-served, and gets it cheap. But it has its drawbacks."

"You always see the same fellows," said Silverbridge.

"A man who lives much at a club is apt to fall into a selfish mode of
life. He is taught to think that his own comfort should always be the
first object. A man can never be happy unless his first objects are
outside himself. Personal self-indulgence begets a sense of meanness
which sticks to a man even when he has got beyond all hope of rescue.
It is for that reason,--among others,--that marriage is so
desirable."

"A man should marry, I suppose."

"Unless a man has on his shoulders the burden of a wife and children
he should, I think, feel that he has shirked out