"Are you very fond of poetry?" he asked.
"Very fond."
"So am I. Which do you like best, Tennyson or Shakespeare?"
"They are very unlike."
"Yes;—they are unlike. Or Moore's Melodies? I am very fond of 'When in death I shall calm recline.' I think this equal to anything. Reginald Dobbes would have it that poetry is all bosh."
"Then I think that Mr. Reginald Dobbes must be all bosh himself."
"There was a man there named Tregear who had brought some books." Then there was a pause. Lady Mary had not a word to say. "Dobbes used to declare that he was always pretending to read poetry."
"Mr. Tregear never pretends anything."
"Do you know him?" asked the rival.
"He is my brother's most particular friend."