out! George, you in particular ought to get hold of it. Ought to get into a good club, and all that."
"Always ready to learn," I said. "Ever since you gave me the chance of Latin. So far we don 1 t seem to have hit upon any Latin-speaking stratum in the population."
"We've come to French," said my aunt, "anyhow."
"It's a very useful language," said my uncle. "Puts a point on things. Zzzz. As for accent, no Englishman has an accent. No Englishman pronounces French properly. Don't you tell me. It's a Bluff. It's all a Bluff. Life's a Bluff—practically. That's why it's so important, Susan, for us to attend to Style. Le Steel Say Lum. The Style it's the man. Whad you laughing at, Susan? . . . George, you're not smoking. These cigars are good for the mind. . . . What do you think of it all? We got to adapt ourselves. We have—so far. . . . Not going to be beat by these silly things."
"What do you think of it, George?" he insisted.
What I said I thought of it I don't now recall. Only I have very distinctly the impression of meeting for a moment my aunt's impenetrable eye. And anyhow he started in with his accustomed energy to rape the mysteries of the Costly Life, and become the calmest of its lords. On the whole I think he did it—thoroughly. I have crowded memories, a little difficult to disentangle, of his experimental stages, his experimental proceedings. It's hard at times to say which memory comes in front of which. I recall him as presenting on the whole a series of small surprises, as being again and again, unexpectedly, a little more self-confident, a little more