He was flattered. And he was perfectly eased by her tone. She was a woman to whom you could talk sense. And he perceived that, though a casual observer might fail to find the points of resemblance between them, they were rather alike.
"I expect," said he, "it's pretty well known i' this town as I'm not one that beats about the bush."
"Good!" said she. "You know my stepson, Emanuel?"
"He was here a bit since," James replied.
"What do you think of him?"
"How?"
"As a man?"
"Well, missis, as we are na' beating about the bush, I think he's a foo'."
"Now that's what I like!" she exclaimed, quite ravished. "He is a fool, Mr. Ollerenshaw—between ourselves. I can see that you and I will get on together splendidly! Emanuel is a fool. I can't help it. I took him along with my second husband, and I do my best for him. But I'm not responsible for his character. As far as that goes, he isn't responsible for it, either. Not only is he a fool, but he is a conceited fool, and an idle fool; and he can't see a joke. At the same time he is quite honest, and I think he's a gentleman. But being a gentleman is no excuse for being a fool; indeed, I think it makes it worse."
"Nothing can make it worse," James put in.