“At least they buy pictures,” said Eugene.

“On the contrary, they now sell old masters, and empty the pockets of would-be buyers.”

“They are very ornamental,” remarked Claudia.

“In some cases, undoubtedly,” said Morewood.

“If you mean a titled class,” said Ayre, “I quite agree.  I object to titles.  They only confuse ranks.  A sweep is made a lord, and outsiders think he’s a gentlemen.”

“Come, you’re a baronet yourself, you know,” said Eugene.

“It’s true,” admitted Ayre, with a sigh; “but it happened a long while ago, and we’ve nearly lived it down.”

“Take care they don’t make you a peer!”

“I have passed a busy life in avoiding it.  After all, there’s a chance.  I’m not a brewer or a lawyer, or anything of that kind.  But still, the fear of it has paralyzed my energies and compelled me to squander my fortune.  They don’t make poor men peers.”

“That ought to have been allowed to weigh in the balance in favor of Dives,” suggested Eugene.

“Not a bit,” said Ayre.  “Depend upon it, they kept it for him down below.”

“I hate cynicism!” said Claudia, suddenly and aggressively.

Ayre put up his eyeglass.

“Apres?”

“It’s all affectation.”

“Really, Lady Claudia, you might be quite old, from the way you talk.  That is one of the illusions of age, which, by the way, have not received enough attention.”

“That’s very true,” said Eugene.  “Old people think the world better than it is because their faculties don’t enable them to make such demands upon it.”

“My dear Eugene,” said Mrs. Lane pertinently, “what can you know about it?  As we grow old we grow charitable.”

“And why is that?” asked Morewood; “not because you think better of other people, but because you know more of yourself.”

“That is so,” said Ayre.  “Standing midway between youth and age, I am an arbiter.  You judge others by yourself.  In youth you have an unduly good opinion of yourself, that unduly depresses your opinion of others.  In age it’s the opposite way.  But who knows which is more wrong?”

“At least let us hope age is right, Sir Roderick,” said Mrs. Lane.

“By all means,” said he.

“All this doesn’t touch my point,” said Claudia.  “You are accounting for it as if it existed.  My point was that it didn’t exist.  I said it was all affectation.”

“And not the only sort of affectation of the same kind!” said Kate Bernard, with remarkable emphasis.

Sir Roderick enjoyed a troubled sea.  Turning to Kate, with a rapid side glance at Claudia on the way, he said: 

“That’s interesting.  How do you mean, Miss Bernard?”

“All attempts to put one’s self forward, to be peculiar, and so on, are the same kind of affectation, and are odious—­especially in women.”

There was nothing very much in the words, and Kate was careful to look straight in front of her as she uttered them.  Still they told.