He was going on in the same strain when his sister quietly interfered—
‘My dear James, how absurd! I am very fond of the theatre, as you know.’
‘But you despise those who act.’
‘Nothing of the kind. I only desire to see them in their proper place in society.’
‘Where is that, pray?’
‘Among themselves—in their own artistic world. In point of fact, they are much happier there.’
‘Stop a moment, Margaret,’ said Forster, with a short, excited laugh. ‘You speak of their world. What is mine? To what sphere do I belong?’
‘You? My dear James, you are a merchant and a gentleman.’
‘I am a tradesman, Margaret, received in certain circles because I have so much money, rejected in others because I have neither the birth nor the breeding of an aristocrat. The same measure you mete to Miss Vere is meted to me—to you also—by those who affect to be our social superiors. What nonsense it all is! What d—d nonsense!’
Margaret Forster shuddered. She had never before in her life heard her brother swear, and his use of even so mild an oath showed the situation to be desperate. She went up to him gently, and put her cheek for his goodnight salute.