“Is it all a question of clothes and manners?”
“No.”
“You’ve got to have besides the clothes and manners an inner instinct?”
“That’s it.”
I mused for a moment, then, looking up, caught Roger’s eye fixed on me with a quizzical gleam.
“Why this catechism?”
“I was thinking of Mr. Masters.”
“Good heavens!” said Roger crossly, his gleam suddenly extinguished. “Can’t you get away from the riff-raff in that house? I wish you’d never gone there.”
“No, I can’t. I was wondering if Mr. Masters, under that awful exterior had a fine nature, could he possibly be a gentleman?”
“Evie,” said Roger, putting down his knife and fork and looking serious, “if under that awful exterior Mr. Masters had the noble qualities of George Washington, Sir Philip Sidney and the Chevalier Bayard he could no more be a gentleman than I could be king of Spain.”