‘How should I say, Nina? Of all the people you ever met, who knows so little of the habits of society as myself? Those fine gentlemen who were here the other day shocked my ignorance by numberless little displays of indifference. Yet I can feel that they must have been paragons of good-breeding, and that what I believed to be a very cool self-sufficiency, was in reality the very latest London version of good manners.’
‘Oh, you did not like that charming carelessness of Englishmen that goes where it likes and when it likes, that does not wait to be answered when it questions, and only insists on one thing, which is—“not to be bored.” If you knew, dearest Kate, how foreigners school themselves, and strive to catch up that insouciance, and never succeed—never!’
‘My brother’s friend certainly is no adept in it.’
‘He is insufferable. I don’t know that the man ever dined in the company of ladies before; did you remark that he did not open the door as we left the dinner-room? and if your brother had not come over, I should have had to open it for myself. I declare I’m not sure he stood up as we passed.’
‘Oh yes; I saw him rise from his chair.’
‘I’ll tell you what you did not see. You did not see him open his napkin at dinner. He stole his roll of bread very slyly from the folds, and then placed the napkin, carefully folded, beside him.’
‘You seem to have observed him closely, Nina.’
‘I did so, because I saw enough in his manner to excite suspicion of his class, and I want to know what Dick means by introducing him here.’
‘Papa liked him; at least he said that after we left the room a good deal of his shyness wore off, and that he conversed pleasantly and well. Above all, he seems to know Ireland perfectly.’
‘Indeed!’ said she, half disdainfully.