"Very well. It's quite an open book. I was born twenty-four years
ago. I am an only child, and, as usula, the apple of my mother's eye
and the terror of my father's pocket. He, my father, is not much else
just now except a recluse. He was recently a member of parliament, a
Liberal member, and, God knows, that's little enough. I believe he
even climbed in by a Chinese pigtail.

"My grandfather was a Judge in the Divorce Court, which doesn't somehow
sound quite respectable, and my great-grandfather was a writer of law
books, for which, personally, I think he ought to have been hanged. I
can't go any farther back; at any rate I don't want to, because I'm
certain it's all so correct and dull there isn't even a family
skeleton."

"Is it the women or the men of the family that are beautiful?"

"Oh, both," with humorous eagerness. "Skeletons and ghosts we sought,
and clamoured for, but ugliness, never."

"Well, it's a pity you were not a woman. Looks are wasted in a man.
Give a man a ready tongue and a taking manner, and he can usually get
what he wants, if he's as ugly as a frog. With you, on the other hand,
things will come too easily. You will miss all the fun of the chase.
On my soul I'm sorry for you."

"The briefs don't come anyway, nor the 'oof': that's all I can see to
be sorry for."

"You don't want them badly enough, that's all. If you want the one,