“The fact is, Alice,” said he, arising and walking the room with immense strides, “Tony will always be Tony!”
“I suppose he will,” said she, dryly.
“Yes; but you don't follow me. You don't appreciate my meaning. I desired to convey this opinion, that Tony being one of those men who cannot add to their own natures the gifts and graces which a man acquires who has his successes with your sex—”
“Come, come, Skeff, you must neither be metaphysical nor improper. Tony is a very fine boy,—only a boy, I acknowledge, but he has noble qualities; and every year he lives will, I feel certain, but develop them further.”
“He won't stand the 'boy' tone any longer,” said Skeff, dryly. “I tried it, and he was down on me at once.”
“What did he say when you told him we were here?” said she, carelessly, while putting her papers in order.
“He was surprised.”
“Was he pleased?”
“Oh, yes, pleased, certainly; he was rather afraid of meeting your mother, though.”
“Afraid of mamma! how could that be?”