He was a sort of blood stockbroker, who did his business by toadying eldest sons and rich young peers and foolish old ladies.

'Marmie' was a familiar figure, I understood, at balls and polo-weeks and country houses.

He was an adroit scandal-monger, and would crawl a mile on his belly to anything that had a title or a million.

I had a business introduction to his firm when I came to London, and he was good enough to ask me to dinner at his club.

There he showed off at a great rate, and pattered about his duchesses till the snobbery of the creature turned me sick.