elix was a
baronet, and therefore presumed him to be the head of the family. He
knew that Carbury Manor belonged to Roger Carbury, and he judged by
the name it must be an old family property. And now the baronet
declared that he was heir to the man who was simply an Esquire. 'Oh,
the heir are you? But how did he get it before you? You're the head of
the family?'

'Yes, I am the head of the family, of course,' said Sir Felix, lying
directly. 'But the place won't be mine till he dies. It would take a
long time to explain it all.'

'He's a young man, isn't he?'

'No;--not what you'd call a young man. He isn't very old.'

'If he were to marry and have children, how would it be then?'

Sir Felix was beginning to think that he might have told the truth
with discretion. 'I don't quite know how it would be. I have always
understood that I am the heir. It's not very likely that he will
marry.'

'And in the meantime what is your own property?'

'My father left me money in the funds and in railway stock,--and then I
am my mother's heir.'

'You have done me the honour of telling me that you wish to marry my
daughter.'

'Certainly.'

'Would you then object to inform me the amount and nature of the
income on which you intend to support your establishment as a married
man? I fancy that the position you assume justifies the question on my
part.' The bloated swindler, the vile city ruffian, was certainly
taking a most ungenerous advantage of the young aspirant for wealth.
It was then that Sir Felix felt his own position. Was he not a
baronet, and a gentleman, and a very handsome fellow, and a man of the
world who had been in a crack regiment? If this surfeited sponge of
speculation, this crammed commercial cormorant, wanted more than that
for his daughter why could he not say so without asking disgusting
questions such as these,--questions which it was quite impossible that a
gentleman should answer? Was it not sufficiently plain that any
gentleman proposing to marry the daughter of such a man as Melmotte,
must do so under the stress of pecuniary embarrassment? Would it not
be an understood bargain that, as he provided the rank and position,
she would provide the money? And yet the vulgar wretch took advantage
of his assumed authority to ask these dreadful questions! Sir Felix
stood silent, trying to look the man in the face, but failing;--wishing
that he was well out of the house, and at the Beargarden. 'You don't
seem t