what sort of socks the ideal lover ought to wear. There are so many
varieties of socks. What is a would-be-gentleman to do? Would it be
of any use writing to the fashionable novelist:-

[How we might, all of us, be Gentlemen.]

"Dear Mr. Fashionable Novelist (or should it be Miss?),--Before going
to my tailor, I venture to write to you on a subject of some
importance. I am fairly well educated, of good family and address,
and, so my friends tell me, of passable appearance. I yearn to
become a gentleman. If it is not troubling you too much, would you
mind telling me how to set about the business? What socks and ties
ought I to wear? Do I wear a flower in my button-hole, or is that a
sign of a coarse mind? How many buttons on a morning coat show a
beautiful nature? Does a stand-up collar with a tennis shirt prove
that you are of noble descent, or, on the contrary, stamp you as a
parvenu? If answering these questions imposes too great a tax on
your time, perhaps you would not mind telling me how you yourself
know these things. Who is your authority, and when is he at home? I
should apologize for writing to you but that I feel you will
sympathize with my appeal. It seems a pity there should be so many
vulgar, ill-bred people in the world when a little knowledge on these
trivial points would enable us all to become gentlemen. Thanking you
in anticipation, I remain . . . "

Would he or she tell us? Or would the fashionable novelist reply as
I once overheard a harassed mother retort upon one of her inquiring
children. Most of the afternoon she had been rushing out into the
garden, where games were in progress, to tell the children what they
must not do: --"Tommy, you know you must not do that. Haven't you