For one thing it amazed her to hear Thackeray called second-rate; and then she could not widen her point of view to believe that there could be great writers in existence at the present day, or if there were, that any one she knew could be a great writer, and his self-confidence astounded her, and he became more and more remote.
"My other novel," Hewet continued, "is about a young man who is obsessed by an idea--the idea of being a gentleman.

He manages to exist at Cambridge on a hundred pounds a year.

He has a coat; it was once a very good coat.

But the trousers--they're not so good.

Well, he goes up to London, gets into good society, owing to an early-morning adventure on the banks of the Serpentine.