They look to me as their mouthpiece. Lucille shrugged her shoulders. If you are the, what do you call it, the mouthpiece of the people, I do not see how you can be anything else than the enemy of the aristocracy. I am the enemy of all those who, because they possess an ancient name and inherited wealth, consider themselves the God-appointed bullies of the poor, dealing them out meagre charities, lordly patronage, an unspoken but bitter contempt. But the aristocracy of the earth are not of such as these.
Inherited prejudices can never survive the next few generations.
The fusion of classes must come. She shook her head. Many generations have come and gone since the wonderful pages of history were opened to us. This is the great chorus. Mr. Sabin raised the horn eyeglass, which he so seldom used, and contemplated Brott steadily.