that is just what you said to me when I told you
I was going to marry his Excellency. But I did. And I think it is a
glorious move on Michael's part. It requires brain to find out what you
like, and character to go and do it. Combers haven't got brains as
a rule, you see. If they ever had any, they have degenerated into
conservative instincts."

He again refreshed himself with the landscape. The roofs of Ashbridge
were visible in the clear sunset. . . . Ashbridge paid its rents with
remarkable regularity.

"That may or may not be so," he said, forgetting for a moment the danger
of being dignified. "But Combers have position."

Barbara controlled herself admirably. A slight tremor shook her, which
he did not notice.

"Yes, dear," she said. "I allow that Combers have had for many
generations a sort of acquisitive cunning, for all we possess has
come to us by exceedingly prudent marriages. They have also--I am an
exception here--the gift of not saying very much, which certainly has an
impressive effect, even when it arises from not having very much to say.
They are sticky; they attract wealth, and they have the force called vis
inertiae, which means that they invest their money prudently. You should
hear Tony--well, perhaps you had better not hear Tony. But now here
is Michael showing that he has got tastes. Can you wonder that I'm
delighted? And not only has he got tastes, but he has the strength of
character to back them. Michael, in the Guards too! It was a perfect
farce, and he's had the sense to see it. He hated his duties, and he
hated his diversions. Now Francis--"

"I am afraid Michael has always been a little jealous of Francis,"
remarked his father.

This roused Barbara; she spoke quite seriously:

"If you really think that, my dear," she said, "you have the distinction
of being the worst possible judge of character that the world has ever
known. Michael might be jealous of anybody else, for the poor boy feels
his physical awkwardness most sensitively, but Francis is just the one
person he really worships. He would do anything in the world for him."

The discussion with Barbara was being even more fruitless than that with
his wife, and Lord Ashbridge rose.

"All I can do, then, is to ask you not to back Michael up," he said.

"My dear, he won't need backing up. He's a match for you by himself. But
if Michael, after thoroughly worsting you, asks me my opinion, I shall
certainly give it him. But he won'