He did not care to be seen in an apparently friendly conversation with a man like Bolton.
"Very well. I think myself it may be better."
He followed Ray into a room which the latter used as a library and office, and took care to select a comfortable seat.
"Really, Stephen Ray," he remarked, glancing around him at the well-filled bookcases, the handsome pictures, and the luxurious furniture, "you are very nicely fixed here."
"I suppose you didn't come to tell me that," responded Stephen Ray with a sneer.
"Well, not altogether, but it is as well to refer to it. I have known you a good many years. I remember when you first came here to visit your uncle in the character of a poor relation. I don't believe you had a hundred dollars to your name."
Such references grated upon the purse-proud aristocrat, who tried to persuade himself that he had always been as prosperous as at present.
"There is no occasion for your reminiscences," he said stiffly.
"No, I suppose you don't care to think of those days now. Your cousin, Dudley, a fine young man, was a year or two older. Who would have thought that the time would come when you--the poor cousin--would be reigning in his place?"
"If that is all you have to say, our interview may as well close."