Randall lit a cigarette.
"I hope I'm not boring you," he said.
"Not a bit." "Well--what complicates the matter is that her father's the most infernal swine unhung." I started, remembering what Betty had told me.
"I thought," said I, "that you were fast friends." "Who told you so ?" he asked.
"All the birds of Wellingsford." "I did go to see him now and then," he admitted.

"I thought he was much maligned.

A man with sincere opinions, even though they're wrong, is deserving of some respect, especially when the expression of them involves considerable courage and sacrifice.

I wanted to get to the bottom of his point of view." "If you used such a metaphor in the Albemarle," I interrupted, "I'm afraid you would be sacrificed by your friends." He had the grace to laugh.

"You know what I mean." "And did you get to the bottom of it ?" "I think so." "And what did you find ?" "Crass ignorance and malevolent hatred of everyone better born, better educated, better off, better dressed, better spoken than himself." "Still," said I, "a human being can have those disabilities and yet not deserve to be qualified as the most infernal swine unhung." "That's a different matter," said he, unbuttoning his canvas jacket, for the morning was warm.