“I should like very much to know one thing,” said he, thoughtfully.
“And what may that be?”
“I 'd like to know,—are you ever serious?”
“Not what you would call serious, perhaps; but I 'm very much in earnest, if that will do. That delightful Saxon habit of treating all trifles with solemnity I have no taste for. I'm aware it constitutes that great idol of English veneration, Respectability; but we have not got that sort of thing here. Perhaps the climate is too moist for it.”
“I 'm not a bit surprised that the Colonel fell in love with you,” blurted he out, with a frank abruptness.
“And did he,—oh, really did he?”
“Is the news so very agreeable, then?”
“Of course it is. I 'd give anything for such a conquest. There 's no glory in capturing one of those calf elephants who walk into the snare out of pure stupidity; but to catch an old experienced creature who has been hunted scores of times, and knows every scheme and artifice, every bait and every pitfall, there is a real triumph in that.”
“Do I represent one of the calf elephants, then?”
“I cannot think so. I have seen no evidence of your capture—not to add, nor any presumption of my own—to engage in such a pursuit. My dear Mr. Conyers,” said she, seriously, “you have shown so much real kindness to the brother, you would not, I am certain, detract from it by one word which could offend the sister. We have been the best of friends up to this; let us part so.”