But I'm not; no one knows that better than myself.

Then there's the question of marriage, too." Michael gave a mirthless laugh.
"I'm twenty-five, you see," he said, "and it's the family custom for the eldest son to marry at twenty-five, just as he's baptised when he's a certain number of weeks old, and confirmed when he is fifteen.

It's part of the family plan, and the Medes and Persians aren't in it when the family plan is in question.

Then, again, the lucky young woman has to be suitable; that is to say, she must be what my father calls 'one of us.' How I loathe that phrase! So my mother has a list of the suitable, and they come down to Ashbridge in gloomy succession, and she and I are sent out to play golf together or go on the river.

And when, to our unutterable relief, that is over, we hurry back to the house, and I escape to my piano, and she goes and flirts with you, if you are there.
Don't deny it.