"Not to his discredit, but to his disadvantage. I've noticed that what they call a man's man is generally something of a bore."
"Davenant isn't a bore."
"Isn't he? Well, I really didn't notice in particular. I only remember that he used to be about here years ago—and I didn't like him. I suppose Drusilla has to be civil to him because he was Cousin Rodney's ward."
She had paused on the landing at the angle of the staircase.
"He's good-looking," Guion said, in continued effort to interpose the trivial between himself and what he had still to tell her.
"Oh, that sort of Saxon giant type is always good-looking. Of course. And dull too."
"I dare say he isn't as dull as you think."
"He might be that, and still remain pretty dull, after the allowances had been made. I know the type. It's awful—especially in the form of the American man of business."
"I'm an American man of business myself."
"Yes; by misadventure. You're the business man made, but not born. By nature you're a boulevardier, or what the newspapers call a 'clubman.' I admire you more than I can say—everybody admires you—for making such a success of a work that must always have been uncongenial at the least."