’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. But the young man with the orange tie remained in his place, disputing whether the body had not something or other which he called its legitimate claims. Ireton, you are in league with him. He wanted to become a millionaire. Beauty doesn’t mean, never has meant, anything—anything at all but you.
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