Mentally she compared him with another young man. In her mind she carried now at all times the vividly detailed picture of a masculine type; and it was impossible not to use it as a standard or measure. Mr. Kenion seemed very weak and mean and valueless, when set beside her standard.
"What is your profession, Mr. Kenion?"
He had no profession: as she well knew, he was what is called a gentleman at large. With vague terms he conveyed the information to her again.
"Really? Not a professional man? Are you a man of property—landed estates, and so on?"
No, Mr. Kenion was acreless.
"But you are expecting property at your father's death? Is it entailed upon you? I mean, are you sure of the succession?"
Mr. Kenion smilingly confessed that his father's death would not bring him land.
"But you are assured that he can supply you with ample means during his lifetime?"
Oh, no. Mr. Kenion explained that the vicar of Chapel-Norton was in no sense a capitalist.
"My governor couldn't do anything more for me—and I shouldn't care to ask him. He has done a good deal for me already—it wouldn't be fair to my brothers and sisters to ask him to stump up again;" and he went on to hint plainly that in his opinion the fact of his being a gentleman—a real gentleman—should counterbalance such a trifle as the deficiency of material resources.