grey, and shrewd. He was looking at a picture.

"He's so delightfully unconscious," murmured Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace.
"He didn't even seem to know that there was a problem of the lower
classes."

"Did he tell you that he had a picture?" asked Cecilia gloomily.

"Oh yes, by Harpignies, with the accent on the 'pig.' It's worth three
times what he gave for it. It's so nice to be made to feel that there is
still all that mass of people just simply measuring everything by what
they gave for it."

"And did he tell you my grandfather Carfax's dictum in the Banstock
case?" muttered Cecilia.

"Oh yes: 'The man who does not know his own mind should be made an
Irishman by Act of Parliament.' He said it was so awfully good."

"He would," replied Cecilia.

"He seems to depress you, rather!"

"Oh no; I believe he's quite a nice sort of person. One can't be rude
to him; he really did what he thought a very kind thing to my father.
That's how we came to know him. Only it's rather trying when he will
come to call regularly. He gets a little on one's nerves."

"Ah, that's just what I feel is so jolly about him; no one would ever
get on his nerves. I do think we've got too many nerves, don't you?