But common people, whether lords or shopkeepers, are slow to understand that possession, whether in the shape of birth, or lands, or money, or intellect, is a small affair in the difference between men.
"I know you don't think me fit to hold a candle to him," he said.

"But I happen to know, for all he rides such a good horse, he's not above doing the work of a wretched menial, for he polishes his own stirrup-irons." "I'm very glad to hear it," rejoined Mary.

"He must be more of a gentleman yet than I thought him." "Then why should you count him a better gentleman than me ?" "I'm afraid for one thing, you would go with your stirrup-irons rusty, rather than clean them yourself, George.

But I will tell you one thing Mr.Wardour would not do if he were a shopkeeper: he would not, like you, talk one way to the rich, and another way to the poor--all submission and politeness to the one, and familiarity, even to rudeness, with the other! If you go on like that, you'll never come within sight of being a gentleman, George--not if you live to the age of Methuselah." "Thank you, Miss Mary! It's a fine thing to have a lady in the shop! Shouldn't I just like my father to hear you! I'm blowed if I know how a fellow is to get on with you! Certain sure I am that it ain't _my_ fault if we're not friends." Mary made no reply.

She could not help understanding what George meant, and she flushed, with honest anger, from brow to chin.