even I desired it, which the
gods forbid, my means would not enable me to make the necessary display.
My uncle, thinking to retrieve the fallen fortunes of the title, amassed
enormous wealth as a company promoter, while I, on whom the title has
descended, am perfectly contented with its fallen fortunes. I have
scarcely a thought or taste in common with my aunt. In fact, I must bore
her exceedingly. Yet she hides her boredom beneath a radiant countenance
and leads me to understand that my society gives her inexpressible joy.
I wonder why.

She is always be-guide-philosopher-and-friending me. I resent it. A man
of forty does not need the counsels of an elderly woman destitute of
intellect. I believe there are some women who are firmly convinced that
their sheer sex has imbued them with all the qualities of genius. To-day
my aunt tackled me on the subject of marriage. I ought to marry. I asked
why. It appeared it was every man's duty.

"From what point of view?" I asked. "The mere propagation of the human
race, or the providing of a superfluous young woman with a means of
livelihood? If it is the former, then, in my opinion, there are too
many people in the world already; and if the latter, I'm afraid I'm not
sufficiently altruistic."

"You are so _funny!_" laughed my aunt.

I was not aware of being the least bit funny.

"But, seriously," she continued, "you _must_ marry." She is a woman who
has an irritating way of speaking in Italics. "Are you aware that if you
have no son the title will become extinct?"

"And if it does," I cried, "who on this earth will care a
half-penny-bun?"

I am growing tired of the title. At first it was rather amusing. Now
it appears it is registered in Heaven's chancery and hedged about with
divine ordinances. Only the other day an unknown parson requested me to
open a church bazaar, and I gathered he had received his instructions
direct from the Almighty.

"Why, every one would care," exclaimed my aunt, genuinely shocked. "It
would be monstrous. You owe it to your descendants as well as to your
ancestors. Besides," she added, with apparent irrelevance, "a man in
your position ought to live up to it."

"I do," said I, "just up to it."

"Now you are pretending you don't understand me. You ought to marry
money!"

I smiled and shook my head. I don't think my aunt likes me to smile
and shake my head, for I saw a flicker in her eyes. "No, my dear aunt;
emphatically no. It would be com