described the flat as "a bourgeois interior."

"Nora," said Ben, "put something in my bag for the night--I'm going to
Newport in a few minutes."

He had expected a flood of questions, for Nora was no looker-on at
life, and he was surprised by her merely observing that she was glad
he was getting away from the heat. The truth was that she knew far
more about David than he did. She had consistently coddled David since
his infancy, and he told her a great deal. Besides, she took care
of his things when he was at Ben's. She had known of sachets,
photographs, and an engraved locket that he wore on his watch-chain.
She was no radical. She had seen disaster come upon the old professor
and attributed it, not to the narrowness of the trustees, but to the
folly of the professor. She disapproved of most of Ben's friends, and
would have despised his paper if she ever read it. The only good
thing about it in her estimation was, he seemed to be able "to knock
a living out of it"--a process which Nora regarded with a sort of gay
casualness. She did not blame him for making so little money and
thus keeping her housekeeping cramped, but she never in her own mind
doubted that it would be far better if he had more. The idea that
David was about to marry money seemed to her simply the reward of
virtue--her own virtue in bringing David up so well. She knew that Mr.
Cord opposed the marriage, but she supposed that Ben would arrange all
that. She had great confidence in Ben. Still he was very young, very
young, so she gave him a word of advice as she put his bag into his
hand.

"Don't take any nonsense. Remember you're every bit as good as they.
Only don't, for goodness' sake, Mr. Ben, talk any of your ideas to