"My Claire," I replied with dignity, "is neither stumpy nor stupendous."
"In fact, just the right height."
"Well, yes, just the right height."
Tom paid no attention, but went on in full career—
"I hate your Griseldas, your Jessamys, your Mary Anns; give me Semiramis, Dido, Joan of—"
"My dear Tom, not all at once, I hope."
"Bah! you are so taken up with your own choice, that you must needs scoff at anyone who happens to differ. I tell you, woman should be imperial, majestic; should walk as a queen and talk as a goddess. You scoff because you have never seen such; you shut your eyes and go about saying, 'There is no such woman.' By heaven, Jasper, if you could only see—"
At this point Tom suddenly pulled up and blushed like any child.
"Go on—whom shall I see?"
Tom's blush was beautiful to look upon.