“I don’t know what that means.”
“Nor do I, but didn’t it sound grand?”
“Do you?” asked Henry anxiously. “Anyway, Robin, we shan’t last long at this rate. A dreadful time is coming when we shall be obliged to do something to justify our existence. Make money or speeches or something. When the last of the money goes we’ll be for it. The ones with brains and energy may survive but they’ll be starting from a long way behind scratch. They say that if you want a job in the City it’s wise to speak with an accent and pretend you’ve been to a board school. A hollow mockery, because you’re found out the moment you have to do sums or write letters.”
“But,” said Robin, “your sort of education—”
“Suits me. It’s an admirable preparation for almost everything except an honest job of work.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Don’t you? Perhaps you’re right and it’s just our family that’s mad of itself without any excuse.”
“You’re a nice family. I love every one of you.”
“Darling Robin.” Henry reached out a hand and patted her. “Don’t be too fond of us.”
“My mother,” said Robin, “says you’ve all got such a tremendous amount of charm.”