"I don't want to know about your estate. I won't hear about your estate. It can be nothing to me."
"It is generally considered to be a matter of some importance."
"It is of no importance to me, at all, Mr. Spooner; and I won't hear anything about it. If all the parish belonged to you, it would not make any difference."
"All the parish does belong to me, and nearly all the next," replied Mr. Spooner, with great dignity.
"Then you'd better find some lady who would like to have two parishes. They haven't any weight with me at all." At that moment she told herself how much she would prefer even Bou—logne, to Mr. Spooner's two parishes.
"What is it that you find so wrong about me?" asked the unhappy suitor.
Adelaide looked at him, and longed to tell him that his nose was red. And, though she would not quite do that, she could not bring herself to spare him. What right had he to come to her,—a nasty, red-nosed old man, who knew nothing about anything but foxes and horses,—to her, who had never given him the encouragement of a single smile? She could not allude to his nose, but in regard to his other defects she would not spare him. "Our tastes are not the same, Mr. Spooner."
"You are very fond of hunting."
"And our ages are not the same."
"I always thought that there should be a difference of age," said Mr. Spooner, becoming very red.