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Updated: May 17, 2025
Anyhow, my career, as I planned it, is ruined already. The Ipswich gang have collared me; I can't call my tongue my own, Mildred. Think of that!" She smiled faintly. "Temporary, George! You'll soon have your head up and your tongue out." "Oh, from time to time, I presume, I shall always be the Horrid Vulgar Boy of those poor Barthops; I shall kick like a galvanized frog long after I'm dead.
He hated to think of his marriage, because he recognized in it the fatal "little spot" in the yet ungarnered fruit of his life. He was only thirty, but he had been married seven years and had two children, both of them the image of all the Barthops that had ever been, except his own father.
In moments of depression he saw himself through all the coming years being gradually broken, crushed under a weight of Barthops father-in-law, wife and children moulded into a thin semblance of a Marquis of Ipswich, a bastard Marquis.
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