id Bramleigh, haughtily, "what then?"

"What then? Simply that you'd be the--no matter what. Your father was
very angry with me one night, because I said something of the same kind
to him."

And as he spoke he pushed his glass impatiently from him, and looked
ineffably annoyed and disgusted.

"Will you not take more wine, Mr. Cutbill?" said Augustus, blandly, and
without the faintest sign of irritation.

"No; not a drop. I'm sorry I've taken so much. I began by filling my
glass whenever I saw the decanter near me--thinking, like a confounded
fool as I was, we were in for a quiet confidential talk, and knowing
that I was just the sort of fellow a man of your own stamp needs and
requires; a fellow who does nothing from the claims of a class--do you
understand?--nothing because he mixes with a certain set and dines at a
certain club; but acts independent of all extraneous pressure--a bit of
masonry, Bramleigh, that wants no buttress. Can you follow me, eh?"

"I believe I can appreciate the strength of such a character as you
describe."

"No, you can't, not a bit of it. Some flighty fool that would tell
you what a fine creature you were, how greathearted--that's the cant,
great-hearted!--would have far more of your esteem and admiration than
Tom Cutbill, with his keen knowledge of life and his thorough insight
into men and manners."

"You are unjust to each of us," said Bramleigh, quietly.

"Well, let us have done with it. I 'll go and ask Miss Ellen for a cup
of tea, and then I 'll take my leave. I 'm sure I wish I 'd never have
come here. It's enough to provoke a better temper than mine. And now
let me just ask you, out of mere curiosity--for, of course, I must n't
presume to feel more--but just out of curiosity let me ask you, do you
know an art or an industry, a trade or a calling, that would bring you
in fifty pounds a year? Do you see your way to earning the rent of a
lodging even as modest as this?"

"That is exactly one of the points on which your advice would be very
valuable to me, Mr. Cutbill."

"Nothing of the kind. I could no more tell a man of your stamp how to
gain his livelihood than I could make a tunnel with a corkscrew. I know
your theory well enough. I 've heard it announced a thousand times and
more. Every fellow with a silk lining to his coat and a taste for fancy
jewelry imagines he has only to go to Australia to make a fortune; that
when he has done with Bond Street he can take to the bus