"No, I suppose you wouldn't." He says with a chuckle. "Let me provide you with some perspective. Had I simply given you my purse, you would have found yourself with what would have been to you a life-changing amount of money." He didn't give the boy the exact number, which was a sum of roughly twenty-five pounds, he simply wanted to make that understanding clear to him. "Conversely, the loss of this sum of money is to me, a minor inconvenience."

He continues as they meander through the streets. "Now, most of the nobility simply take such difference in wealth as the natural order of things. However, I have never been entirely found of simply accepting what is because others cannot imagine better." He pauses for several moments and then shakes his head. "Most of what I am saying I am sure is quite beyond you, not due to any lack of intelligence on your part but rather ignorance. No one has cared enough about your education to ensure you can understand the meandering musing of pompous noblemen. So, allow me to attempt to put it into vernacular you might better comprehend."

Quentin coughs into his hand and then says in a startlingly accurate impression of an old dock worker. "Listen ya little gobshite. Ye threatened me with a knife, like a daft little bugger looking fer a beating. But I ain't some fishmonger whose going ta thrash ye fer trying ta feed yerself and yer brother then send ye on your way no richer cept fer the burises. I'm a hoity-toity posh type and I'm try ta decide what ta do with ya by taking stock of what kind of little gobshite you really are. I might send ya on yer way with more than a shilling iffin I think you'll do something worthwhile with it."

There is a beat as he lets this sink in before he continues in his usual tone of voice, which was a smooth baritone with a posh accent. "Does that make it a bit clearer?" He inquires.