‘Mr. Sparkins,’ said the host, vainly endeavouring to conceal his dismay, ‘a glass of wine?’
‘With the utmost pleasure, sir.’
‘Happy to see you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘We were talking the other evening,’ resumed the host, addressing Horatio, partly with the view of displaying the conversational powers of his new acquaintance, and partly in the hope of drowning the grocer’s stories—‘we were talking the other night about the nature of man. Your argument struck me very forcibly.’
‘And me,’ said Mr. Frederick. Horatio made a graceful inclination of the head.
‘Pray, what is your opinion of woman, Mr. Sparkins?’ inquired Mrs. Malderton. The young ladies simpered.
‘Man,’ replied Horatio, ‘man, whether he ranged the bright, gay, flowery plains of a second Eden, or the more sterile, barren, and I may say, commonplace regions, to which we are compelled to accustom ourselves, in times such as these; man, under any circumstances, or in any place—whether he were bending beneath the withering blasts of the frigid zone, or scorching under the rays of a vertical sun—man, without woman, would be—alone.’
‘I am very happy to find you entertain such honourable opinions, Mr. Sparkins,’ said Mrs. Malderton.
‘And I,’ added Miss Teresa. Horatio looked his delight, and the young lady blushed.