Yes, his father looked a bounder with his dark good looks, and his pink carnation, and his square, self-assertive walk.

And without a word he ducked behind the young woman and slipped out of the Promenade.

He heard the word, "Val!" behind him, and ran down deep-carpeted steps past the 'chuckersout,' into the Square.
To be ashamed of his own father is perhaps the bitterest experience a young man can go through.

It seemed to Val, hurrying away, that his career had ended before it had begun.

How could he go up to Oxford now amongst all those chaps, those splendid friends of Crum's, who would know that his father was a 'bounder'! And suddenly he hated Crum.