"I should have thought you'd have been rather pleased with that."
"Why? Because she's the daughter of a Duke? I shouldn't have thought you would have taken that line."
He looked pained. "I don't, really," said Pam soothingly. "Did they?"
"Oh, not in any way that you could object to. I mean they wouldn't have thought I was making up to her because of that. But—well, the long and the short of it is that I seemed to present myself to their minds as the son of a man who's so rich that I can afford to make up to anybody. That's what's disturbing me."
She bent her mind to it. "Really, I don't quite see," she said, with sympathy. "If it does come to that—that you want to marry her—wouldn't it make it easier?"
"I suppose I should be glad that money didn't stand in the way. But I don't quite like it, all the same. Dad seems to be quite well known, as a man who has made pots of money, and may be made a peer himself, or anything he likes—not because of his money—I don't mean that exactly—but because he has made himself so useful to them. What I didn't like was the sort of suggestion that he made a pot during the war. I know he didn't, and I told them so. Of course they said that they had never imagined anything of that kind—seemed shocked at the very idea. But I'm pretty certain that the idea is going about, and I don't like it a bit. Anyhow, I'm not going to exhibit myself as a joyous young bounder who thinks he can do anything he likes because he's the son of a rich man. I don't believe Dad is as rich as all that, and I told them so. I said I supposed they were leading up to asking me to back bills for them. We left it on that note. But it's rather disturbing, isn't it?"
"Not very, Norman dear. I shouldn't let it worry you. I know perfectly well that you'd be just the same if Uncle Bill were as poor as a church mouse; and everybody would be just as pleased to see you."
"Dear old girl! You know that I shouldn't found myself on money; but everybody doesn't. I shall have to be a bit careful, if it's really like that. I think I shall put it to Dad myself. He's not like that, either. He likes work, and he's made a big success of it because he's so clever, and sound. It's hard luck if people have got hold of a wrong idea of him."
"You're always telling me that I know nothing; but I do know as much as that—that rich people are apt to be misunderstood. Still, we know him, so what does it matter? What is the bearing of it all upon Margaret?"
"The bearing of it on Margaret—name that melts my very heart-strings—is that I shall go slow for a time, and see how things turn out. If she weren't a Duke's daughter, I should let myself rip. As it is, I'm not so sure."