“How is it that one so young should be so—so philosophic?” said he, after a hesitation.
“Had you asked me that question in French, Mr. Repton, the language would have come so pleasantly to your aid, and spared you the awkwardness of employing a grand phrase for a small quality; but my 'philosophy' is simply this: that, to fill a station whose casualties range from courtesies in the drawing-room to slights from the servants' hall, one must arm themselves with very defensive armor as much, nay more, against flattery than against sarcasm. If, in the course of time, this habit render one ungenial and uncompanionable, pray be lenient enough to ascribe the fault to the condition as much as to the individual.”
“But, to be candid, I only recognize in you qualities the very opposite of all these; and if I am to confess a smart at this moment, it is in feeling that I am not the man to elicit them.”
“There you do me wrong. I should be very proud to captivate Mr. Repton.”
“Now we are on the good road at last!” said he, gayly; “for Mr. Repton is dying to be captivated.”
“The fortress that is only anxious to surrender offers no great glory to the conqueror,” replied she.
“By Jove! I 'm glad you 're not at the bar.”
“If I had been, I could never have shown the same forbearance as Mr. Repton.”
“How so? What do you mean?”
“I never could have refused a silk gown, sir; and they tell me you have done so!”