"But this is a special kind of opinion. You see, sir, I've always been poor. I've lived among poor people. I've seen how much they have to go without. And I begin to see all that rich people have more than they need—more than they can ever use."
"Oh, quite so! I see! I see! And you both get a bit revolutionary. Go to it, boy! Fellows of your age who're not boiling over with rebellion against social conditions as they are'll never be worth their salt. Don't say anything about it before Mrs. Ansley, but between yourselves.... Why, when I was an undergraduate.... You'll live through it, though.... The poor people don't want any champions.... They don't want to be helped.... You get sick of it in the long run.... But while you're young boil away.... If that's all that bothers you...."
Tom explained that it was all that bothered him, and the bargain was struck. He had expressed his thanks, shaken hands, and reached the threshold on the way out when Ansley spoke again.
"Guy tells me that out at Cambridge they call you the Whitelaw Baby. I suppose you know all about yourself—your people—where you began—that sort of thing?"
He decided to be positive, laconic, to do what he could to squelch the idea in Ansley's mind.
"Yes, sir; I do."
"Then that settles that."
XXXV