If he died without issue the ancient name of Monk became extinct, a consummation from which his father shrank with something like horror.
The Colonel was a selfish man--Morris could not conceal it, even from himself--one who had always thought of his own comfort and convenience first.

Yet, either from idleness or pride, to advance these he had never stooped to scheme.

Where the welfare of his family was concerned, however, as his son knew, he was a schemer.

That desire was the one real and substantial thing in a somewhat superficial, egotistic, and finessing character.
Morris saw it all as he leaned there upon the railing, staring at the mist-draped sea, more clearly, indeed, than he had ever seen it before.
He understood, moreover, what an unsatisfactory son he must be to a man like his father--if it had tried, Providence could hardly have furnished him with offspring more unsuitable.

The Colonel had wished him to enter the Diplomatic Service, or the Army, or at least to get himself called to the Bar; but although a really brilliant University career and his family influence would have given him advantages in any of these professions, he had declined them all.