'Don't malign your parents, old fellow. They gave you a brain inferior to that of few men. You will never meet a woman of higher birth.'
'That's a friendly sophism. I can't thank you for it, because it has a bitter side.'
But the compliment had excited Peak, and after a moment's delay he exclaimed:
'I have no other ambition in life—no other! Think the confession as ridiculous as you like; my one supreme desire is to marry a perfectly refined woman. Put it in the correct terms: I am a plebeian, and I aim at marrying a lady.'
The last words were flung out defiantly. He quivered as he spoke, and his face flushed.
'I can't wish you success,' returned his friend, with a grave smile.
'You couldn't help it sounding like a sneer, if you did. The desire is hopeless, of course. It's because I know that, that I have made up my mind to travel for a year or two; it'll help me on towards the age when I shall regard all women with indifference. We won't talk about it any more.'
'One question. You seriously believe that you could find satisfaction in the life to which such a marriage would condemn you?'
'What life?' asked Peak, impatiently.
'That of an average gentleman, let us say, with house in town and country, with friends whose ruling motive was social propriety.'