“Because you can’t get good servants?” said his friend, who was drumming on the table and looking blankly about.
“Because all the old order is passing, all the standards and backgrounds that I value. I don’t think I’m a snob—”
“Of course you’re a snob, Wilsey.”
Mr. Wilsey smiled temperately.
“What do you mean by the word?”
It was a question about which Lanley had been thinking, and he answered:
“I mean a person who values himself for qualities that have no moral, financial, or intellectual value whatsoever. You, for instance, Wilsey, value yourself not because you are a pretty good lawyer, but because your great-grandfather signed the Declaration.”
A shade of slight embarrassment crossed the lawyer’s face.
“I own,” he said, “that I value birth, but so do you, Lanley. You attach importance to being a New York Lanley.”
“I do,” answered Lanley; “but I have sense enough to be ashamed of doing so. You’re proud of being proud of your old Signer.”