'I don't think I care for Spratt. He may be lively, but he's not life-like.'
'And "Michael Bamfold." It is hard work, perhaps but very thoughtful, if you can digest that sort of thing.'
'I hate thought.'
'What do you say to Miss Bouverie's last;—"Ridden to a Standstill;" a little loud, perhaps, but very interesting? Or "Green Grow the Rushes O," by Mrs. Tremaine? None of Mrs. Tremaine's people do anything that anybody would do, but they all talk well.'
'I hate novels written by women. Their girls are so unlovely, and their men such absurdly fine fellows!'
'I have William Coxe's "Lock picked at Last," of which I will defy you to find the secret till you have got to the end of it.'
'I am a great deal too impatient.'
'And Thompson's "Four Marquises." That won't give you any trouble, because you will know it all from the first chapter.'
'And never have a moment of excitement from the beginning to the end. I don't think I care very much for novels. Have you nothing else?'
Caldigate had many other books, a Shakespeare, some lighter poetry, and sundry heavier works of which he did not wish specially to speak, lest he should seem to be boasting of his own literary taste; but at last it was settled that on the next morning he should supply her with what choice he had among the poets. Then at about midnight they parted, and Caldigate, as he found his way down to his cabin, saw the quartermaster with his eye fixed upon Mrs. Smith. There is no so stern guardian of morality and propriety as your old quartermaster on board a first-class ship.