[Watching her keenly.] No? and what are your lady-customers continually saying?
Sophy.
Why, that the young fellows of the day are such conceited, apish creatures; no man under forty-five is worth wasting a minute's time over.
Quex.
Ho! they say that, your lady-customers?
Sophy.
Yes; and they're good judges, they are.
Quex.
Good judges! none better—none better.
Sophy.