“You’ll find it very inconvenient being a lord on a thousand; you might as well be a beggar.”
“I suppose, of course, high rank requires a large rent roll. In fact, a New York gentleman requires more than a trifle to support him. I can’t dress on less than two hundred pounds a year.”
“Your American tailors are high-priced, then?”
“Those that I employ; we have cheap tailors, of course, but I generally go to Bell.”
Mr. Stuyvesant was posing as a gentleman of fashion. Carl, who followed at a little distance behind the pair, was much amused by his remarks, knowing what he did about him.
“I think a little of going to England in a few months,” continued Stuyvesant.
“Indeed! You must look me up,” said Bedford, carelessly.
“I should, indeed, be delighted,” said Stuyvesant, effusively.
“That is, if I am in England. I may be on the Continent, but you can inquire for me at my club—the Piccadilly.”
“I shall esteem it a great honor, my lord. I have a penchant for good society. The lower orders are not attractive to me.”