 for what I am - a man of education, talking
your own language. Because I have dared to hope something more, I suffer from
the thought that I was not born into your world, and that you must be always
remembering this difference.«
    »Do you think me so far behind the age?« asked Sidwell, trying to laugh.
    »Classes are getting mixed, confused. Yes, but we are so conscious of the
process that we talk of class distinctions more than of anything else, - talk
and think of them incessantly. You have never heard me make a profession of
Radicalism; I am decidedly behind the age. Be what I may - and I have spiritual
pride more than enough - the fact that I have relatives in the lower, even the
lowest, social class must necessarily affect the whole course of my life. A
certain kind of man declares himself proud of such an origin - and most often
lies. Or one may be driven by it into rebellion against social privilege. To me,
my origin is simply a grave misfortune, to be accepted and, if possible,
overcome. Does that sound mean-spirited? I can't help it; I want you to know
me.«
    »I believe I know you very well,« Sidwell replied.
    The consciousness that she was deceived checked the words which were rising
to his lips. Again he saw himself in a pitiful light, and this self-contempt
reflected upon Sidwell. He could not doubt that she was yielding to him; her
attitude and her voice declared it; but what was the value of love won by
imposture? Why had she not intelligence enough to see through his hypocrisy,
which at times was so thin a veil? How defective must her sympathy be!
    »Yet you have seen very little of me,« he said, smiling.
    There was a short silence; then he exclaimed in a voice of emotion:
    »How I wish we had known each other ever since that day when your brother
brought me to your house near Kingsmill! If we had met and talked through all
those years! But that was impossible for the very reason which makes me
inarticulate now that I wish to say so much. When you first saw me I was a gawky
schoolboy, learning to use my brains, and knowing already that life had nothing
to offer me but a false position. Whether I remained with my kith and kin, or
turned my back upon them in the hope of finding my equals, I was condemned to a
life of miserable incompleteness. I was born in exile
