Ilookbacknowwithacuriousremotenessofspirittothosecrowdeddining-roomswiththeirdispersedtablesandtheirinevitablered-shadedlightsandtheunsympathetic，unskillfulwaiters，andthechoiceof“ThigorGlear，Sir？”I’venotdinedinthatway，inthatsortofplace，nowforfiveyears——itmustbequitefiveyears，sospecialisedandnarrowismylifebecoming。
Myuncle’searliermotor-carphasesworkinwiththeseassociations，andtherestandsoutalittlebrightvignetteofthehalloftheMagnificent，Bexhill-on-Sea，andpeopledressedfordinnerandsittingaboutamidstthescarletfurniture——satinandwhite-enameledwoodworkuntilthegongshouldgatherthem；
andmyauntisthere，verymarvelouslywrappedaboutinadustcloakandacage-likeveil，andtherearehotelportersandunder-portersveryalert，andanobsequiousmanager；andthetallyoungladyinblackfromtheofficeissurprisedintoadmiration，andinthemiddleofthepictureismyuncle，makinghisfirstappearanceinthatEsquimauxcostumeIhavealreadymentioned，ashortfigure，compactlyimmense，hugelygoggled，wearingasortofbrownrubberproboscis，andsurmountedbyatable-landofmotoringcap。
Soitwaswerecognisedournewneedsasfreshinvadersoftheupperlevelsofthesocialsystem，andsetourselvesquiteconsciouslytotheacquisitionofStyleandSavoirFaire。Webecamepartofwhatisnowadaysquiteanimportantelementintheconfusionofourworld，thatmultitudeofeconomicallyascendantpeoplewhoarelearninghowtospendmoney。Itismadeupoffinancialpeople，theownersofthebusinessesthatareeatinguptheircompetitors，inventorsofnewsourcesofwealth，suchasourselves；itincludesnearlyallAmericaasoneseesitontheEuropeanstage。Itisavariousmultitudehavingonlythisincommon：theyareallmoving，andparticularlytheirwomankindaremoving，fromconditionsinwhichmeanswereinsistentlyfinite，thingswerefew，andcustomssimple，towardsalimitlessexpenditureandthesphereofattractionofBondStreet，FifthAvenue，andParis。Theirgeneraleffectisoneofprogressiverevolution，oflimitlessrope。
Theydiscoversuddenlyindulgencestheirmoralcodeneverforesawandhasnoprovisionfor，elaborations，ornaments，possessionsbeyondtheirwildestdreams。Withanimmenseastonishedzesttheybeginshoppingbeginasystematicadaptationtoanewlifecrowdedandbrilliantwiththingsshopped，withjewels，maids，butlers，coachmen，electricbroughams，hiredtownandcountryhouses。Theyplungeintoitasoneplungesintoacareer；asaclass，theytalk，think，anddreampossessions。Theirliterature，theirPress，turnsallonthat；immenseillustratedweekliesofunsurpassedmagnificenceguidethemindomesticarchitecture，intheartofowningagarden，intheachievementofthesumptuousinmotor-cars，inanelaboratesportingequipment，inthepurchaseandcontroloftheirestates，intravelandstupendoushotels。Oncetheybegintomovetheygofarandfast。Acquisitionbecomesthesubstanceoftheirlives。
Theyfindaworldorganisedtogratifythatpassion。Inabriefyearorsotheyareconnoisseurs。Theyjoinintheplunderoftheeighteenthcentury，buyrareoldbooks，fineoldpictures，goodoldfurniture。Theirfirstcrudeconceptionofdazzlingsuitesofthenewlyperfectisreplacedalmostfromtheoutsetbyajackdawdreamofaccumulatingcostlydiscrepantoldthings。
Iseemtoremembermyuncletakingtoshoppingquitesuddenly。
IntheBeckenhamdaysandintheearlyChiselhurstdayshewaschieflyinterestedingettingmoney，andexceptforhisonslaughtontheBeckenhamhouse，botheredverylittleabouthispersonalsurroundingsandpossessions。Iforgetnowwhenthechangecameandhebegantospend。Someaccidentmusthaverevealedtohimthisnewsourceofpower，orsomesubtleshiftingoccurredinthetissuesofhisbrain。Hebegantospendand“shop。”Sosoonashebegantoshop，hebegantoshopviolently。Hebeganbuyingpictures，andthen，oddlyenough，oldclocks。FortheChiselhursthouseheboughtnearlyadozengrandfatherclocksandthreecopperwarmingpans。Afterthatheboughtmuchfurniture。
Thenheplungedintoartpatronage，andbegantocommissionpicturesandtomakepresentstochurchesandinstitutions。Hisbuyingincreasedwitharegularacceleration。Itsdevelopmentwasapartofthementalchangesthatcametohiminthewildexcitementsofthelastfouryearsofhisascent。Towardstheclimaxhewasafuriousspender；heshoppedwithlargeunexpectedpurchases，heshoppedlikeamindseekingexpression，heshoppedtoastonishanddismay；shoppedcrescendo，shoppedfortissimo，conmoltoespressioneuntilthemagnificentsmashofCrestHillerodedhisshoppingforever。Alwaysitwashewhoshopped。Myauntdidnotshineasapurchaser。Itisacuriousthing，duetoIknownotwhatfinestraininhercomposition，thatmyauntneversetanygreatstoreuponpossessions。SheplungedthroughthatcrowdedbazaarofVanityFairduringthosefeverishyears，spendingnodoubtfreelyandlargely，butspendingwithdetachmentandatouchofhumorouscontemptforthethings，eventhe“old“things，thatmoneycanbuy。Itcametomesuddenlyoneafternoonjusthowdetachedshewas，asIsawhergoingtowardstheHardingham，sittingup，asshealwaysdid，ratherstifflyinherelectricbrougham，regardingtheglitteringworldwithinterestedandironicallyinnocentblueeyesfromunderthebrimofahatthatdefiedcomment。“Noone。”Ithought，“wouldsitsoapartifshehadn’tdreams——andwhatareherdreams？”
I’dneverthought。
AndIremember，too，anoutburstofscornfuldescriptionaftershehadlunchedwithapartyofwomenattheImperialCosmicClub。Shecameroundtomyroomsonthechanceoffindingmethere，andIgavehertea。Sheprofessedherselftiredandcross，andflungherselfintomychair。
“George。”shecried，“theThingswomenare！Do_I_stinkofmoney？”
“Lunching？”Iasked。
Shenodded。
“Plutocraticladies？”
“Yes。”
“Orientaltype？”
“Oh！Likeabursthareem！。Braggingofpossessions。Theyfeelyou。Theyfeelyourclothes，George，toseeiftheyaregood！”
IsoothedheraswellasIcould。“TheyAREGoodaren’tthey？”
Isaid。
“It’stheoldpawnshopintheirblood。”shesaid，drinkingtea；
andthenininfinitedisgust，“Theyruntheirhandsoveryourclothes——theypawyou。”
Ihadamomentofdoubtwhetherperhapsshehadnotbeendiscoveredinpossessionofunsuspectedforgeries。Idon’tknow。Afterthatmyeyeswerequickened，andIbegantoseeformyselfwomenrunningtheirhandsoverotherwomen’sfurs，scrutinisingtheirlace，evendemandingtohandlejewelry，appraising，envying，testing。Theyhaveakindofetiquette。
Thewomanwhofeelssays，“Whatbeautifulsables？”“Whatlovelylace？”Thewomanfeltadmitsproudly：“It’sReal，youknow。”ordisavowspretensionmodestlyandhastily，“It’sRotGood。”Ineachother’shousestheypeeratthepictures，handletheselvageofhangings，lookatthebottomsofchina。
IwonderifitIStheoldpawnshopintheblood。
IdoubtifLadyDrewandtheOlympiansdidthatsortofthing，buthereImaybeonlyclingingtoanotherofmyformerillusionsaboutaristocracyandtheState。PerhapsalwayspossessionshavebeenBooty，andneveranywherehastherebeensuchathingashouseandfurnishingsnativeandnaturaltothewomenandmenwhomadeuseofthem。
Forme，atleast，itmarkedanepochinmyuncle’scareerwhenI
learntonedaythathehad“shopped“LadyGrove。Irealisedafresh，wide，unpreludedstep。Hetookmebysurprisewiththesuddenchangeofscalefromsuchportablepossessionsasjewelsandmotor-carstoastretchofcountryside。ThetransactionwasNapoleonic；hewastoldoftheplace；hesaid“snap“；therewerenopreliminarydesiringsorsearchings。Thenhecamehomeandsaidwhathehaddone。Evenmyauntwasforadayorsomeasurablyawestrickenbythisexploitinpurchase，andwebothwentdownwithhimtoseethehouseinamoodnearconsternation。
Itstruckusthenasaverylordlyplaceindeed。Irememberthethreeofusstandingontheterracethatlookedwestward，surveyingthesky-reflectingwindowsofthehouse，andafeelingofunwarrantableintrusioncomesbacktome。
LadyGrove，youknow，isaverybeautifulhouseindeed，astillandgraciousplace，whoseage-longseclusionwasonlyeffectivelybrokenwiththetootofthecomingofthemotor-car。
AnoldCatholicfamilyhaddiedoutinit，centurybycentury，andwasnowaltogetherdead。Portionsofthefabricarethirteenthcentury，anditslastarchitecturalrevisionwasTudor；within，itisforthemostpartdarkandchilly，savefortwoorthreefavouredroomsanditstall-windowed，oak-galleriedhall。Itsterraceisitsnoblestfeature；averywide，broadlawnitis，borderedbyalowstonebattlement，andthereisagreatcedarinonecornerunderwhoselevelbranchesonelooksoutacrossthebluedistancesoftheWeald，bluedistancesthataremadeextraordinarilyItalianinqualitybyvirtueofthedarkmassesofthatsingletree。Itisaveryhighterrace；
southwardonelooksdownuponthetopsofwayfaringtreesandspruces，andwestwardonasteepslopeofbeechwood，throughwhichtheroadcomes。Oneturnsbacktothestilloldhouse，andseesagreyandlichenousfacadewithaveryfinelyarchedentrance。Itwaswarmedbytheafternoonlightandtouchedwiththecolourofafewneglectedrosesandapyracanthus。Itseemedtomethatthemostmodernownerconceivableinthisserenefineplacewassomebeardedscholarlymaninablackcassock，gentle-voicedandwhite-handed，orsomeverysoft-robed，greygentlewoman。Andtherewasmyuncleholdinghisgogglesinasealskinglove，wipingtheglasswithapocket-handkerchief，andaskingmyauntifLadyGrovewasn’ta“BitofallRight。”
Myauntmadehimnoanswer。
“Themanwhobuiltthis。”Ispeculated，“worearmourandcarriedasword。”
“There’ssomeofitinsidestill。”saidmyuncle。
