That society rejoiced in this fact was but the stamp of its inferiority and folly.  While she pinched herself and harried her few hirelings at Stornham it was necessary for Sir Nigel to show himself in town and present as decent an appearance as possible.  His vanity was far too arrogant to allow of his permitting himself to drop out of the world to which he could not afford to belong.  That he should have been forgotten or ignored would have been intolerable to him.  For a few years he was invited to dine at good houses, and got shooting and hunting as part of the hospitality of his acquaintances.  But a man who cannot afford to return hospitalities will find that he need not expect to avail himself of those of his acquaintances to the end of his career unless he is an extremely engaging person.  Sir Nigel Anstruthers was not an engaging person.  He never gave a thought to the comfort or interest of any other human being than himself.  He was also dominated by the kind of nasty temper which so reveals itself when let loose that its owner cannot control it even when it would be distinctly to his advantage to do so.

Finding that he had nothing to give in return for what he took as if it were his right, society gradually began to cease to retain any lively recollection of his existence.  The tradespeople he had borne himself loftily towards awakened to the fact that he was the kind of man it was at once safe and wise to dun, and therefore proceeded to make his life a burden to him.  At his clubs he had never been a member surrounded and rejoiced over when he made his appearance.  The time came when he began to fancy that he was rather edged away from, and he endeavoured to sustain his dignity by being sulky and making caustic speeches when he was approached.  Driven occasionally down to Stornham by actual pressure of circumstances, he found the outlook there more embittering still.

Lady Anstruthers laid the bareness of the land before him without any effort to palliate unpleasantness.  If he chose to stalk about and look glum, she could sit still and call his attention to revolting truths which he could not deny.  She could point out to him that he had no money, and that tenants would not stay in houses which were tumbling to pieces, and work land which had been starved.  She could tell him just how long a time had elapsed since wages had been paid and accounts cleared off.  And she had an engaging, unbiassed way of seeming to drive these maddening details home by the mere manner of her statement.

“You make the whole thing as damned disagreeable as you can,” Nigel would snarl.

“I merely state facts,” she would reply with acrid serenity.

A man who cannot keep up his estate, pay his tailor or the rent of his lodgings in town, is in a strait which may drive him to desperation.  Sir Nigel Anstruthers borrowed some money, went to New York and made his suit to nice little silly Rosalie Vanderpoel.