You're too fastidious, and too indolent, and too rich." "Oh, I say," cried Lord Warburton, "you're hardly the person to accuse a fellow-creature of being too rich!" "Do you mean because I'm a banker ?" asked the old man.
"Because of that, if you like; and because you have--haven't you ?--such unlimited means." "He isn't very rich," the other young man mercifully pleaded.

"He has given away an immense deal of money." "Well, I suppose it was his own," said Lord Warburton; "and in that case could there be a better proof of wealth?
Let not a public benefactor talk of one's being too fond of pleasure." "Daddy's very fond of pleasure--of other people's." The old man shook his head.

"I don't pretend to have contributed anything to the amusement of my contemporaries." "My dear father, you're too modest!" "That's a kind of joke, sir," said Lord Warburton.
"You young men have too many jokes.

When there are no jokes you've nothing left." "Fortunately there are always more jokes," the ugly young man remarked.
"I don't believe it--I believe things are getting more serious.

You young men will find that out." "The increasing seriousness of things, then that's the great opportunity of jokes." "They'll have to be grim jokes," said the old man.