“A mere trifle; I can't exactly tell you, for I have not applied for it”
“I would, though; I 'd have it out of them, and I 'd have whatever I could, besides. They 'd not give you the Bath; that they keep for gentlemen—”
Conway took his cigar from his lips, and while his cheek burned, he seemed about to reply; then, resuming his smoking, he lay back and said nothing.
“After all,” said Clowes, “there must be distinctions of rank. One regrets, one deplores, but can't help it Look at all the attempts at equality, and see their failures. No, sir, you have your place in the social scale, and I have mine.”
Now, when Mr. Clowes had enunciated this sentiment, he seemed suddenly to be struck by its severity; for he added, “Not but that every man is respectable in his own rank; don't imagine that I look down upon you.”
Conway's eyes opened widely as he stared at him, and he puffed his cigar a little more energetically, but never spoke.
“You 've done with the service, I suppose?” said Clowes, after a while.
“I'm afraid so,” said Conway, sighing.
“Well, he”—and he jerked his thumb towards Dunn's room—“he is the man to help you to something snug. He can give away places every hour of the day. Ay, sir,” said he, warming, “he can make anything, from an archbishop to a barony constable.”
“I rather fear that my capacity for employment might not be found very remarkable. I have idle habits and ways,” said Conway, smiling.