"'Thomas Putnam,'" she read upon the fly-leaf. "What an extremely homely name!" she commented.
"A matter of taste," he replied. "I confess that Patience Putnam would please me better."
"You are very rude!" she said, angry that she needs must blush.
"Am I? You may have an opportunity to polish my manners whenever you choose."
"They need it badly enough; but some materials are so coarse-grained, that they will take no polish. Will you please talk sensibly for a few moments?"
"Certainly. Any thing to please you. Your request is at once too reasonable and too polite to be disregarded. Have you any choice of subject?"
"What have you been reading?"
"Merely a foolish lovelorn ditty."
"Read it to me," she commanded.
"As you please; if you will give me the book. Sir John Suckling is responsible for it."