I've got nothing to do, and had nothing to live on, and I'm two and twenty." "Yes." "I do feel as if I was altogether in such an ignominious position." As John quite agreed with him in this view of his position, he remained silent.
Valentine went on, "First, my going to Cambridge came to nothing on account of my health.

Then a month ago, as I didn't want to go and live out in New Zealand by myself, couldn't in fact, the New Zealand place was transferred to Liz, and she and Dick are to go to it, Giles saying that he would give me a thousand pounds instead of it.

I shall not take that, of course." "Because he will want his income for himself," John interrupted.
Valentine proceeding, "And now since I left off learning to farm,--for that's no use here,--I've got nothing on earth to do." "Have you thought of anything yet ?" "Yes." "Well, out with it." "John," remarked Valentine, as the shadow of a smile flitted across John's face, "you always seem to me to know what a fellow is thinking of! Perhaps you would not like such a thing,--wouldn't have it ?" John observed that he was getting a little less gloomy as he proceeded.
"But whether or not, that two thousand pounds will help me to some career, certainly, and entirely save me from what I could not bear to think of, _her_ knowing that I was dependent on Giles, and despising me for it." "Pooh," exclaimed John, a little chafed at his talking in this way, "what is St.George's wife likely to know, or to care, as to how her brother-in-law derives his income?
But I quite agree with you that you have no business to be dependent on Giles; he has done a great deal for his sisters he should now have his income for himself." "Yes," said Valentine.
"You have always been a wonderfully united family," observed John pointedly; "there is every reason why that state of things should continue." "Yes," repeated Valentine, receiving the covert lecture resignedly.
"And there is no earthly end, good or bad, to be served," continued John, "by the showing of irritation or gloom on your part, because your brother has chosen to take for himself what you had previously and with all deliberation thrown away." "I suppose not, John," said Valentine quite humbly.
"Then what can you be thinking of ?" "I don't know." "You have not talked to any one as you have done to me this morning ?" "No, certainly not." "Well, then, decide while the game is in your own hand that you never will." So far from being irritated or sulky at the wigging that John was bestowing on him, Valentine was decidedly the better for it.

The colour returned to his face, he sat upright in his chair, and then he got up and stood on the rug, as if John's energy had roused him, and opened his eyes also, to his true position.
"You don't want to cover yourself with ridicule, do you ?" continued John, seeing his advantage.
"Why, even if you cared to take neither reason, nor duty, nor honour into the question, surely the only way to save your own dignity from utter extinction is to be, or at least seem to be, quite indifferent as to what the lady may have chosen to do, but very glad that your brother should have taken a step which makes it only fair to you that he and his wife should forget your former conduct." "John," said Valentine, "I acknowledge that you are right." John had spoken quite as much, indeed more, in Brandon's interest than in Valentine's.

The manner in which the elder had suffered the younger to make himself agreeable and engage himself to Dorothea Graham, and how, when he believed she loved him, he had made it possible for them to marry, were partly known to him and partly surmised.