SIR JAMES. We've got to move with the times, my boy. Land is played
out as a living for gentlemen; they go into business nowadays. If
he can't get on there, it's his own fault. He went to Eton and
Oxford; what more does he want?

LADY FARRINGDON (to GERALD). You must remember he isn't clever like
you, Gerald.

GERALD. Oh, well, it's no good talking about it now. Poor old Bob!
Wentworth thinks--

SIR JAMES. Ah, now why couldn't Wentworth have defended him?
That other man--why, to begin with, I don't even call him a
gentleman.

GERALD. Wentworth recommended him. But I wish he had gone to
Wentworth before, as soon as he knew what was coming.

SIR JAMES. Why didn't he come to _me_? Why didn't he come to _any_
of us? Then we might have done something.

LADY FARRINGDON. Didn't he even tell _you_, Gerald?

GERALD (awkwardly). Only just at the last. It was--it was too late
to do anything then. It was the Saturday before he was--arrested.
(To himself) "The Saturday before Bob was arrested"--what a way to
remember anything by!

LADY FARRINGDON (to GERALD). Bob is coming round, dear?