“Well, it is more and more difficult to maintain a position without money.  Mr. Morgan says that it is a disheartening thing to be an aristocrat without luxury; he declares that he cannot tell whether the Knickerbockers of New York or the plutocrats are more uneasy just now.  The one is hungry for social position, and is morose if he cannot buy it; and when the other is seduced by luxury and yields, he finds that his distinction is gone.  For in his heart the newly rich only respects the rich.  A story went about of one of the Bonanza princes who had built his palace in the city, and was sending out invitations to his first entertainment.  Somebody suggested doubts to him about the response.  ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘the beggars will be glad enough to come!’”

“I suppose, Mr. Lyon,” said Margaret, demurely, “that this sort of thing is unknown in England?”

“Oh, I couldn’t say that money is not run after there to some extent.”

“I saw a picture in Punch of an auction, intended as an awful satire on American women.  It struck me that it might have two interpretations.”

“Yes, Punch is as friendly to America as it is to the English aristocracy.”

“Well, I was only thinking that it is just an exchange of commodities.  People will always give what they have for what they want.  The Western man changes his pork in New York for pictures.  I suppose that—­what do you call it?—­the balance of trade is against us, and we have to send over cash and beauty.”

“I didn’t know that Miss Debree was so much of a political economist.”

“We got that out of books in school.  Another thing we learned is that England wants raw material; I thought I might as well say it, for it wouldn’t be polite for you.”

“Oh, I’m capable of saying anything, if provoked.  But we have got away from the point.  As far as I can see, all sorts of people intermarry, and I don’t see how you can discriminate socially—­where the lines are.”

Mr. Lyon saw the moment that he had made it that this was a suggestion little likely to help him.  And Margaret’s reply showed that he had lost ground.

“Oh, we do not try to discriminate—­except as to foreigners.  There is a popular notion that Americans had better marry at home.”

“Then the best way for a foreigner to break your exclusiveness is to be naturalized.”  Mr. Lyon tried to adopt her tone, and added, “Would you like to see me an American citizen?”

“I don’t believe you could be, except for a little while; you are too British.”

“But the two nations are practically the same; that is, individuals of the nations are.  Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, if one of them gives up all the habits and prejudices of a lifetime and of a whole social condition to the other.”

“And which would have to yield?”

“Oh, the man, of course.  It has always been so.  My great-great-grandfather was a Frenchman, but he became, I have always heard, the most docile American republican.”