The Prisoner of Zenda - Anthony Hope - Bog

"My dear Rose," I answered, laying down my egg-spoon, "why in the world should I do anything? My position is a comfortable one. I have an income nearly sufficient for my wants (no one's income is ever quite sufficient, you know), I enjoy an enviable social position: I am brother to Lord Burlesdon, and brother-in-law to that charming lady, his countess. Behold, it is enough!" "You are nine-and-twenty," she observed, "and you've done nothing but-" "Knock about? It is true. Our family doesn't need to do things." This remark of mine rather annoyed Rose, for everybody knows (and therefore there can be no harm in referring to the fact) that, pretty and accomplished as she herself is, her family is hardly of the same standing as the Rassendylls. Besides her attractions, she possessed a large fortune, and my brother Robert was wise enough not to mind about her ancestry. Ancestry is, in fact, a matter concerning which the next observation of Rose's has some truth. "Good families are generally worse than any others," she said. Upon this I stroked my hair: I knew quite well what she meant. "I'm so glad Robert's is black!" she cried. At this moment Robert (who rises at seven and works before breakfast) came in.