‘Dinny, my dear,’ said Adrian, ‘I’m not fit to walk with; we’d better get back.’
‘Come and dine at Michael’s then, Uncle – do!’
Adrian shook his head.
‘Skeletons should not be at feasts. I don’t know how to abide myself as your Nurse used to sa I’m sure.’
‘She did not; she was Scotch. Is Ferse a Scottish name?’
‘May have been originally. But Ferse came from West Sussex, somewhere in the Downs – an old family.’
‘Do you think old families are queer?’
‘I don’t see why. When there’s a case of queerness in an old family, it’s conspicuous of course, instead of just passing without notice. Old families are not inbred like village folk.’ By instinct for what might distract him, Dinny went on:
‘Do you think age in families has any points to it at all, Uncle?’
‘What is age? All families are equally old, in one sense. But if you’re thinking of quality due to mating for generations within a certain caste, well, I don’t know – there’s certainly “good breeding” in the sense that you’d apply it to dogs or horses, but you can get that in any favourable physical circumstances – in the dales, by the sea; wherever conditions are good. Sound stock breeds sound stock – that’s obvious. I know villages in the very North of Italy where there isn’t a person of rank, and yet not one without beauty and a look of breeding. But when you come to breeding from people with genius or those exceptional qualities which bring men to the front, I’m very doubtful whether you don’t get distortion rather than symmetry. Families with military or naval origin and tradition have the best chance, perhaps – good physique and not too much brain; but Science and the Law and Business are very distorting. No! where I think “old” families may have a pull is in the more definite sense of direction their children get in growing up, a set tradition, a set objective; also perhaps to a better chance in the marriage market; and in most cases to more country life, and more encouragement to taking their own line and more practice in taking it. What’s talked of as “breeding” in humans is an attribute of mind rather than of body. What one thinks and feels is mainly due to tradition, habit and education. But I’m boring you, my dear.’
‘No, no, Uncle; I’m terribly interested. You believe then in the passing on of an attitude to life rather than in blood.’
‘Yes, but the two are very mixed.’
‘And do you think “oldness” is going out and soon nothing will be handed on?’
‘I wonder. Tradition is extraordinarily strong, and in this country there’s a lot of machinery to keep it alive. You see, there are such a tremendous lot of directive jobs to be done; and the people most fit for such jobs are those who, as children, have had most practice in taking their own line, been taught not to gas about themselves, and to do things because it’s their duty. It’s they, for instance, who run the Services, and they’ll go on running them, I expect. But privilege is only justified nowadays by running till you drop.’
‘A good many,’ said Dinny, ‘seem to drop first, and then do the running. Well, here we are again, at Fleur’s. Now do come in, Uncle! If Diana did want anything you’d be on the spot.’
‘Very well, my dear, and bless you – you got me on a subject I often think about. Serpent!’
Chapter Eighteen
BY pertinacious use of the telephone, Jean had discovered Hubert at ‘The Coffee House’ and learned his news. She passed Dinny and Adrian as they were coming in.
‘Whither away?’
‘Shan’t be long,’ said Jean, and walked round the corner.
Her knowledge of London was small, and she hailed the first cab. Arriving in Eaton Square before a mansion of large and dreary appearance, she dismissed the cab and rang the bell.
‘Lord Saxenden in Town?’
‘Yes, my lady, but he’s not in.’
‘When will he be in?’
‘His lordship will be in to dinner, but – ’
‘Then I’ll wait.’
‘Excuse me – my lady –’
‘Not my lady,’ said Jean, handing him a card; ‘but he’ll see me, all the same.’
The man struggled a moment, received a look straight between the eyes, and said:
‘Will you come in here, my – Miss?’
Jean went. The little room was barren except for gilt-edged chairs of the Empire period, a chandelier, and two marble-topped console tables.
‘Please give him my card the moment he comes in.’