rs of the women who
are married get from the men who marry them?" And if the enquirer had
pursued his query, "And do you think it was fair to have tempted this
girl to give herself to you for life unless you have really touched her
heart?" he would have answered: "The French see these things differently
from us. They look at marriage from the point of view of establishments
and children; and, from my own experience, I am not at all sure that
theirs is not the sensible view. I shall not expect this time more than
I can get, or she can give. Years hence I shouldn't be surprised if I
have trouble with her; but I shall be getting old, I shall have children
by then. I shall shut my eyes. I have had my great passion; hers is
perhaps to come--I don't suppose it will be for me. I offer her a great
deal, and I don't expect much in return, except children, or at least a
son. But one thing I am sure of--she has very good sense!"

And if, insatiate, the enquirer had gone on, "You do not look, then, for
spiritual union in this marriage?" Soames would have lifted his sideway
smile, and rejoined: "That's as it may be. If I get satisfaction for my
senses, perpetuation of myself; good taste and good humour in the house;
it is all I can expect at my age. I am not likely to be going out of my
way towards any far-fetched sentimentalism." Whereon, the enquirer must
in good taste have ceased enquiry.

The Queen was dead, and the air of the greatest city upon earth grey with
unshed tears. Fur-coated and top-hatted, with Annette beside him in dark
furs, Soames crossed Park Lane on the morning of the funeral procession,
to the rails in Hyde Park. Little moved though he ever was by public
matters, this event, supremely symbolical, this summing-up of a long rich
period, impressed his fancy. In '37, when she came to the throne,
'Superior Dosset' was still building houses to make London hideous; and
James, a stripling of twenty-six, just laying the foundations of his
practice in the Law. Coaches still ran; men wore stocks, shaved their
upper lips, ate oysters out of barrels; 'tigers' swung behind cabriolets;
women said, 'La!' and owned no property; there were manners in the land,
and pigsties for the poor; unhappy devils were hanged for little crimes,
and Dickens had but just begun to write. Well-nigh two generations had
slipped by--of steamboats, railways, telegraphs, bicycles, electric
light, telephones, and now these motorcars--of